Ties that Bind
by ML Only
Summary: FINAL CHAPTER NOW POSTED. CHAPTER 29, Epilogue part 3. M-L. Season 1, post Haven. One of Logan's relatives comes to him seeking his assistance.
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: Ties that Bind  
  
TIME FRAME: Post Haven, and set after the Author's previous story, 'Mud.'  
  
DISCLAIMER: No, I don't own Dark Angel, I just like to write about it.  
  
Thanks to Alaidh for being kind enough to Beta for me once more.  
  
Prologue.  
  
"So, who d'you think's gonna win the game tonight?" Bling asked as he lifted Logan's right leg, bending it then gently stretching it out.  
  
The evening was wild and windy outside. Every now and then the low moan of the wind swirling and whipping between the tall buildings of sector 9 could be heard even inside the penthouse, but it did nothing to disturb the ambience of the discreet downlighting, nor was it able to force its way in to penetrate the warmth and comfort inside.  
  
Logan lay on his back on the workout table, idly watching Bling and wondering for the thousandth time if he'd ever get used to seeing someone touch his leg and not feel it.  
  
Bling threw him a look as he proceeded to rotate Logan's ankle.  
  
"So, what d'you think?" he prompted  
  
Logan shrugged and looked up at the ceiling. "Lakers I'd guess," he said eventually.  
  
"They haven't done too well the last coupla games," answered Bling, looking up suddenly as the doorbell rang.  
  
He gave Logan an enquiring look as he lowered his leg to the table, preparing to answer the door, when the door unexpectedly opened and a young man strode in purposefully, stopping at the partitioning when he saw Logan and Bling, a slight look of embarrassment crossing his handsome, dark features.  
  
"Oh, sorry, Logan ... didn't know you were busy."  
  
Logan gave him a cool, appraising look. "Martin," he said, with a faint note of surprise.  
  
"We all done?" Logan asked Bling, then as the trainer nodded, he grasped the forearm Bling held out in front of him, and pulled himself into a sitting position.  
  
"Why don't you wait in the living room, Martin," Logan suggested.  
  
"I really need to talk to you," the younger man insisted.  
  
"Well, it can wait till I'm in my chair," Logan replied edgily.  
  
Martin nodded vaguely, opened his mouth as if he were about to say more, and then walked around to the other part of the penthouse.  
  
Bling watched him go then brought Logan's wheelchair over to the table, holding it steady while Logan lowered himself into it.  
  
"My cousin, Bennett's younger brother," Logan told him by way of explanation.  
  
Bling nodded. "Thought it must have been family," he grinned.  
  
"Mmm," murmured Logan, putting his feet on the footrest and grabbing his watch and glasses from the table.  
  
"You want me to take your water through for you?"  
  
"Thanks Bling," responded Logan a little distractedly, his mind intent on working out what possible reason Martin could have for visiting him.  
  
The glass of water deposited on the low table in front of the sofa, Bling walked back through to the training room. "You need me for anything else?"  
  
"No, that's all. Thanks, Bling. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Logan watched as Bling let himself out, and then slowly wheeled through to the living room.  
  
Martin paced restlessly in front of the huge windows that looked out onto a forest of high -rise buildings stoically resisting the buffeting winds and driving rain.  
  
He looked up with a relieved expression when Logan came in.  
  
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Logan asked a touch sardonically.  
  
To Logan's annoyance, several members of his family had insisted on visiting him when he'd finally returned home from hospital after the shooting. Martin, much to Logan's relief at the time, had been conspicuous by his absence, which only made his visit now all the more inexplicable.  
  
"I need your help," Martin admitted quickly.  
  
Logan looked at him in some surprise.  
  
"You sure it's 'my' help you want?"  
  
Martin came around to stand in front of him, running a hand nervously through the almost black, wavy hair cut in the latest style.  
  
Leaning forward and picking up the glass of water Bling had left for him, Logan took in the impeccably cut dark suit and the gold signet ring encrusted with diamonds on his cousin's finger.  
  
"Perhaps 'you'd' like a drink of something a bit stronger?" Logan suggested to him, very much aware of his own grey sweat pants, T Shirt and feet clad only in sports socks.  
  
For a moment he thought his cousin was going to decline, but as if on an impulse, Martin said curtly, "That's just what I need."  
  
Finishing his own glass of water, Logan wheeled out to the kitchen, returning shortly with a glass and a bottle of Scotch.  
  
"So, do you wanna tell me what this is all about?" asked Logan as he poured his cousin a drink.  
  
"You're not having one?"  
  
Logan shook his head. "I just filled up on water."  
  
Taking a good gulp, Martin blurted out, "It's about my girlfriend."  
  
Logan raised his eyebrows at that. "Considering my track record, I'd hardly say I was the right one to come to for advice on affairs of the heart."  
  
Martin broke in quickly. "It's not like that. She disappeared," he said bluntly.  
  
Logan leaned back in his chair, one hand on the wheel.  
  
"Have you gone to the police about this?"  
  
"Hah, fat lot of good that would do!" snorted his cousin.  
  
Logan shrugged. "Just what have I got to do with all this?"  
  
Martin looked at him, his eyes taking in the wheelchair. All of a sudden he slumped down on the sofa dejectedly. "I don't know, Logan," he muttered. "I just didn't know who else to turn to. I knew before ..." He stopped for a moment, as if uncertain how to proceed.  
  
Logan did nothing to make it easier for him, just sat there, watching him with a slightly ironic gaze, wondering where the suave, self-assured young man from Bennett's housewarming had gone to.  
  
"I knew you had 'contacts'," Martin changed his sentence suddenly, "from all your investigative work."  
  
"What about your father? Surely he has contacts you could use?" asked Logan curiously.  
  
Martin grunted at the mention of his father's name. "Since when did my father ever do anything that wasn't going to benefit himself in some way."  
  
"So, I gather your father didn't approve," hazarded Logan.  
  
Martin looked at him ruefully. "He wanted me to end it."  
  
Logan nodded. "What about Bennett?"  
  
Picking up the bottle and pouring himself another drink, Martin shrugged derisively, "He's been too wrapped up with Marianne and the new house and everything to have time for this, and Dwayne will never do anything to get in Dad's bad books."  
  
"But you figure Logan's already in the bad books, so what the heck?"  
  
Martin looked a little uncomfortable at that. "I don't know why Dad is that way about you."  
  
Logan made a dismissive gesture with his hand.  
  
"What's your girlfriend's name?"  
  
"Emma Belding."  
  
"When did she disappear?"  
  
Martin sighed, "Eleven days ago."  
  
Logan frowned. "That's a long time, Martin."  
  
"I don't mind telling you, Logan, I'm going out of mind with worry," Martin said, jumping up again with a nervous energy.  
  
"Doesn't she have family who are looking for her?"  
  
"There's only her and her father, and he's out of the country. I can't even contact him."  
  
Martin looked at his cousin hopefully.  
  
"Do you think you know anyone who can help me with this, Logan? I know before you were ...you know ...you used to know all sorts of strange people," Martin stumbled on.  
  
"You must have been 'desperate' to turn up here," Logan said ironically.  
  
Martin stopped his pacing for the moment, and had the grace to look a little sheepish, suddenly realizing how his words had sounded.  
  
"You know what I mean, Logan," he muttered a little self-consciously. Taking in Logan's unresponsive expression, Martin dug into his pocket and brought out a photo.  
  
"This is her picture," he said, handing Logan the photo.  
  
A little reluctantly, Logan put out his hand and took it. "When was this taken?" he asked.  
  
"Maybe three weeks ago."  
  
Logan looked down at the photo. Emma Belding looked to be in her early twenties, with light brown hair, hazel eyes, and a smile that showed even white teeth. Not a great beauty in the classical sense, but she had a sweet look about her – more your girl-next-door. Logan raised his brows slightly. She was hardly the type of girl he remembered Martin being interested in.  
  
"When did you last see her?"  
  
With more of his usual manner, Martin replied, "Eleven days ago. We'd had dinner together at 'Alexander's'. I dropped her home afterwards. It was about ten."  
  
"Did you go in?"  
  
Martin shook his head. "She told me she was tired. Wanted to go to bed early. It's the truth," he added, seeing Logan's slightly sceptical look. "I was never the smooth mover that you were."  
  
Logan shrugged impassively. "Whatever."  
  
"She's a nice girl. We'd only been going out a short while," Martin added in a subdued manner.  
  
Logan looked down at the photo again, and studied her face. What if Martin was right? What if she was simply a pretty girl with no hidden agendas? Did such girls still exist in post pulse Seattle and would someone like Martin be attracted to her?  
  
Logan swivelled his chair around and headed into his office, returning with a notebook and pen. "Let me take the details down. I'll see what I can do."  
  
Martin looked relieved. "Thanks, Logan."  
  
Without looking up as he opened the notebook, Logan said, "I don't know if there's much I can do. I'll try a few of my 'strange' contacts."  
  
"That's fine."  
  
"So, what does Emma do? Does she have a job?"  
  
"She was an administrative assistant for Quintor."  
  
"Was?" stressed Logan.  
  
"Hopefully still is," Martin corrected. "I called them but no-one has seen her since the day I did. This is her address," he added, handing Logan one of his own business cards with an address written on the back.  
  
Logan wrote it down, then asked, holding the card out to Martin again, "Did she live alone?"  
  
"Keep it, and no, she had a roommate. I met her a few times. Charlie someone-or-other."  
  
Glancing at his watch, Logan closed his notebook with an air of finality and said, "Well, I'll start with this, see if I can shed some light on where she's gone."  
  
Martin looked a little dissatisfied, but had no choice but to follow Logan as he wheeled to the front door and opened it to let his cousin out.  
  
Pausing in the doorway, Martin said, "When will I hear from you?"  
  
"When I have something to tell you," Logan stated flatly.  
  
Martin looked a little dissatisfied, but nodded at that, then left, leaving Logan to thoughtfully close the door after him.  
  
*****************************************  
  
"Logan, Logan," Max's voice rang through the apartment. "You still awake?"  
  
"Well if I wasn't before, I am now," he replied with a grin, coming from the direction of his bedroom.  
  
"'Were' you asleep?" she asked.  
  
"No. Just thinking about taking a shower."  
  
"You got time for coffee?" asked Max.  
  
"Sure."  
  
Max leaned against the counter, watching as he set about making it.  
  
"Whew, it sure is wild out there," she commented, pushing her wavy hair back from her face.  
  
"Yeah? I haven't been out in it," Logan replied glancing at the windows before opening the coffee.  
  
"Funny," she said casually, "I thought I saw your cousin Martin outside the front doors of the building."  
  
Logan paused almost imperceptibly as he got two mugs out. "Really?"  
  
Max picked up an empty glass that was on the bench. She put it to her face and smelt it, wrinkling her nose at the strong smell. "Is this what Bling prescribes after your workout?" she asked innocently.  
  
Logan wheeled up and took the glass off her, looking slightly peeved as he rinsed it under the faucet, and then finished pouring their coffees.  
  
"So, was it just a social visit?" she dug a little deeper, taking the two mugs of coffee through to the living room and putting them on the table in front of the sofa.  
  
Logan followed her through, setting his brakes as he stopped in front of the sofa where she sat.  
  
"You're awfully full of questions tonight," he remarked to her as picked up his hot drink.  
  
Max just looked at him.  
  
"Maybe it was," he said eventually.  
  
"Maybe it was... a social visit? Or maybe it was Martin?"  
  
"Not a social visit, and it was Martin," Logan admitted cautiously.  
  
"You mean the cousin Martin with the octopus arms and hands like leeches?" Max asked sarcastically.  
  
"That sounds like him," Logan agreed dryly.  
  
"I thought he hated you," said Max bluntly.  
  
Logan looked startled at that. "I hope not."  
  
"Well, it didn't appear to me as if you were his favourite cousin at Bennett's and Marianne's housewarming the other week," commented Max, watching him closely and wondering why he was being so evasive.  
  
"Well, I was always closer to Bennett," Logan replied without committing himself, quickly finishing off the dregs of his drink.  
  
"You want more coffee?" he asked, unlocking his brakes and picking up their mugs.  
  
"Wow, you going for a record?" Max queried, eyeing his now empty cup. When he didn't reply, she looked at him sceptically.  
  
"Nope," she replied airily, in answer to his previous question and standing up abruptly. "I just remembered something important I gotta do." Looking directly at him she deadpanned, "My bathtub needs scrubbing."  
  
Logan looked a little taken aback at that, but said, "Okay," adding, "fine," with a hint of attitude. "I'll call you tomorrow if anything comes up."  
  
Assuming it was his rather pathetic way of being conciliatory, Max favoured him with one parting look before she walked to the front door and let herself out.  
  
Logan studied a point somewhere in the middle of the room for a few moments, and then finally, with a grunt of exasperation, he took the cups through to the kitchen and left them next to the sink.  
  
Returning to his computer, he went over once more the scanty information that Martin had left him, wondering if doing this for Martin was worth an argument with Max. He doubted it. Max had a way of making life very uncomfortable for him when she wanted to. Of course, he could have told her the truth, but he wasn't particularly keen to subject himself to one of her scathing remarks. He knew full well what she thought of Martin – well, truth be known he didn't think all that much of him himself and after the debacle the night of the housewarming party, he was sure Max wouldn't be impressed to learn that he had agreed to help him. In all likelihood she would just think he was being gutless by not standing up to his family again as he had been about his mother's locket. How could he explain to her just how unpleasant Cale family confrontations could be, and how long the ramifications could be felt?  
  
Then there was Emma Belding.  
  
"Damn you, Martin," he muttered as he shut down his computer and headed for bed.  
  
TBC 


	2. Detective Work

Many thanks for all the encouraging reviews – they're very much appreciated as always.  
  
Special thanks to Alaidh for the beta!  
  
Chapter 2  
  
"Boo, what in the world are you doin' at this time'a night?"  
  
"Scrubbing," grunted Max, scrubbing brush in hand, leaning over the bath, her hand moving with unnatural speed.  
  
"Original Cindy can see that, boo. What she doesn't see is why you're home, applying all your elbow grease to that tin can. Original Cindy thought you was hangin' with your boy tonight."  
  
Head down, Max's reply was unintelligible, except for the part when she clearly snapped, "And he's not my boy!"  
  
"Dayum girl, your hands'll be like sandpaper by the time you're all done gettin' rid of all that aggravation," O.C exclaimed, ignoring the comment. "'Where' are your rubber gloves?"  
  
"I don't need 'em," said Max, "except to strangle someone," she muttered under her breath.  
  
"What did the man do this time?" asked Cindy with the patience of a saint.  
  
Max suddenly stood up, a look of frustration creasing her features. "Is there something about me that makes men want to hide things from me?" She looked about the room as if seeking inspiration, gesturing wildly with her gloveless hands. "Why does everything have to be such a 'mystery' with him?"  
  
Original Cindy raised her eyes. "Well which way are you intending to play this dealio – is it 'you' or is it 'Logan' who's all mussed up?"  
  
Seeing the look on Max's face, she held up her hands, "Hey, don't ask me girl! That one's slicker than Houdini – never knew a man to evade the salient points with such finesse like he can."  
  
Max smiled in spite of herself.  
  
"Come on, boo. Original Cindy's gonna make you coffee and you can forget about all Logan's mysterious moves."  
  
Max tossed her brush into the tub, and against her every instinct admitted, "The problem is he makes me worry when he does this."  
  
"And then you get all steamed up that you're worrying," added her friend with fine insight, "cause worrying means that you care," she finished dulcetly.  
  
"Of course I care – he's a good friend," explained Max a little too quickly.  
  
"You can always check your boy out tomorrow. What fire could he stick his hand into tonight?"  
  
Max shrugged. Well, at least the bathtub was clean. Maybe she should thank Logan for that – she'd been meaning to clean it for weeks.  
  
*******************************************************  
  
Logan was up early the following morning, checking the leads Martin had given him. He'd spent a good deal of his first hour in bed the previous night trying to decide what to do about the situation – after all, missing persons was hardly his deal, and it wasn't as if he felt he owed Martin anything. It was far better all around, he decided, to do a brief check into the girl's disappearance; if he came up with anything - good, if not – so be it. That way he'd have both Martin 'and' hopefully Max off his case.  
  
Strangely, there was little background information he could come up with on Emma Belding, and he began to wonder if Martin had his facts right. Maybe the girl was not the innocent she appeared and was simply stringing Martin along. It wouldn't be the first time a member of the Cale family had been set up by someone who intended to feather their nest with all that wealth.  
  
He looked at the photo Martin had given him, propped up on a book next to his computer. Emma Belding looked young and vulnerable. What trouble was she in, if any, he couldn't help wondering?  
  
He closed his eyes for the moment, taking his glasses off to rub his hand over his face, thinking a shower would go down well. In a flash he had a picture in his mind – Mary-Lou Wyatt. He smiled suddenly. She'd lived across the road from him for a time when he was growing up – all pigtails and freckles with a sunny personality to match. He'd had quite a crush on her, he recalled.  
  
His eyes went back to the picture of Emma Belding – maybe she was just another Mary-Lou Wyatt without the pigtails. Certainly the similarities were even greater without his glasses – the slightly blurred face now hazy like his memory of Mary-Lou.  
  
He was still staring intently at the photo some minutes later when he heard his front door open and Bling came around the corner, a bag of groceries in his arm.  
  
"Hey Bling."  
  
"I got those things you needed," he greeted Logan. "Sure is cold and wet out there," he continued over his shoulder, walking through to the kitchen to put them away.  
  
"I'll do that," said Logan, putting his glasses back on and releasing his brakes to follow his trainer-come-bodyguard.  
  
"No problem," Bling replied, opening one of the cupboard doors. "So, how'd it go with your cousin last night? He seemed kinda edgy."  
  
"Yeah. Turns out his girlfriend's gone missing."  
  
"Missing or dumped him?" suggested Bling.  
  
"You gotta wonder," Logan agreed. "Funny thing is I can't find out much about her."  
  
"You had breakfast yet?" asked Bling, just as the phone rang.  
  
Bling looked around the kitchen as Logan headed back to his desk to answer it, deciding that Logan probably hadn't eaten yet and set about making some coffee, vaguely listening to Logan's conversation as he got some bowls and cereal out. He hadn't eaten himself yet, either.  
  
"...so you'll be in this morning?" he could hear Logan say, then add after a slight note of hesitation, "Does your building have an elevator and ramps ... I'm in a wheelchair," he added, perhaps not quite as smoothly as his earlier words, thought Bling, but he was getting better at it. "Great. I'll be there around eleven."  
  
"That was her roommate," Logan told him, heading to the fridge to get the milk out.  
  
"Can 'he' or 'she' shed any light?"  
  
"Apparently 'she' can't," Logan answered him, adding a couple of spoons to his lap as he made his way through to the dining table, Bling following with the coffee, "but she is happy to talk to me and let me poke around a bit."  
  
"Thought you would've had Max do something like that ... you know, girl to girl talk?"  
  
"Max not in the loop on this?" he added discerningly when Logan didn't reply.  
  
"She doesn't have to know everything I do," said Logan coolly.  
  
"Fine with me," agreed Bling diplomatically.  
  
"It's a family matter. No reason why Max should be involved."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Besides, it's not something she'd want to get involved in – unless it involved kicking Martin's ass," he added reflectively.  
  
"Right," Bling grinned appreciatively.  
  
"She's got her own work to do. I can't be bothering her for every little thing."  
  
"Logan, just who are you trying to convince here?" Bling finally said.  
  
Logan looked at him. "I don't need convincing," he stated definitively.  
  
"Coulda fooled me," murmured Bling to himself as he got up to make some toast.  
  
**********************************************************  
  
"It's bright orange," she'd said to him on the telephone. "There are no numbers."  
  
Logan slowly pushed himself along the hallway, spotting the orange door midway down the dimly lit corridor.  
  
The doorbell was obviously broken, so he knocked a couple of times and waited. Someone else a few doors down stuck their head out and looked at him suspiciously, then he looked up to see Emma Belding's roommate smiling at him.  
  
"You're on time," she remarked. "I thought you'd be late. Nothing personal," she added, "it's just that it's hard to be on time nowadays. You know how the traffic can be and the sector cops can hold you up for hours. It's awful," she commented, all the while looking intently at his hand as she shook it.  
  
Logan quickly took in her long, straight, bright red hair, large eyes heavily made up with mascara and eyeliner, and the mini skirt and long white boots.  
  
"It was good of you to see me," Logan began, pushing through the doorway into the apartment. For the moment he thought he'd gone through some kind of time warp as he took in the 'flower power' wallpaper, macramé lampshades and purple fluffy carpet. It was all quite an assault on the eye – right down to the orange beanbag on the floor.  
  
"So, whatdya think?" Charlie asked.  
  
"My Mom would've loved this when she was a little girl."  
  
"Not a fan of the seventies?"  
  
Logan paused a beat, eventually admitting with a wide grin, "Not really."  
  
"That's cool," Emma Belding's roommate smiled, flicking back her long red hair from over her shoulder. "It 'is' an acquired taste. Can I get you a drink?"  
  
"No. Thanks," Logan responded, thoughtfully looking at the artwork on the walls. "Did you do these?"  
  
"Uh huh," she replied with the hint of an artist's pride.  
  
"They're good," said Logan truthfully.  
  
"I'm glad you like 'em," Charlie answered, coming around to sit on a black and lime green vinyl chair in front of him. "So, you're a 'Cale' too?"  
  
"Yeah, but try not to hold it against me," he said with a rueful smile.  
  
"Martin liked to flash his money around." She looked at Logan. "You don't seem much alike."  
  
"Well, we're only cousins, not brothers. So, did you know Emma well?"  
  
Charlie shrugged. "Not really. She'd only been here about a month before she disappeared, and we didn't see each other much. Ships in the night and all that sorta thing," she laughed.  
  
If she was upset about her roommate's disappearance, she hid it very well, thought Logan.  
  
"Did she ever talk about herself ... work, family?"  
  
"Not really," Charlie mused. "I can't remember her 'ever' talking about herself. She was reeeel quiet-like. You mentioned something about looking through her things...?"  
  
"If that would be all right. I was hoping there might be some clue to where she's gone."  
  
Charlie stood, then hesitated.  
  
"It 'is' kinda expensive finding all this retro stuff ..." She let her words trail off suggestively.  
  
Smiling inwardly, Logan thought to himself that it was unlikely Max would have given in to that one.  
  
Out loud he merely said, "I'll bet it is," as he peeled a couple of hundred dollar bills from his wallet.  
  
Charlie took them without embarrassment, which made Logan think she'd done something like this before. He was considerably surprised, however, when she grabbed hold of the hand he held out.  
  
"Do you mind?" she asked, as she studied it intently.  
  
Quite a deal taken aback, Logan said honestly, "I'm not sure."  
  
She looked up at that and laughed suddenly. "I have a hand fetish," she admitted brightly.  
  
Seeing his confused expression, she explained, "I 'sketch' them."  
  
"Ohhhh," he nodded, feeling a little relieved. "Can I have mine back now?"  
  
"Do you play any instruments? Paint ...draw?" she asked, ignoring his request.  
  
"Actually ... no," admitted Logan.  
  
"Pity," she smiled, finally releasing his hand, much to his relief.  
  
He knew there was nothing sexual in her action, but it had sent a jolt of 'something' through him nonetheless and it only served to remind him of the fact that since he'd been shot, the majority of his female interaction had revolved around nurses doing particularly unromantic things - except for that one moment of bittersweet euphoria outside his uncle's cabin and the desperate way she had clung to him after Mrs. Moreno's accident, when for the briefest of moments he'd returned the pressure, burying his face in her hair, tempted to let go and admit to her that he ...  
  
"Not even the piano?" she was asking.  
  
Tilting his universe back to an even keel, Logan managed to say, "Computers are more my thing."  
  
"I'll give you back the money if you'll let me sketch them," she offered.  
  
Logan began to laugh. "You're serious?"  
  
"Oh yeah." She positively purred, "Some hands are a real turn-on."  
  
Logan gave her a bemused frown. "Right ..."  
  
"I guess the answer's 'no', huh?"  
  
Hoping not to offend, Logan said quickly, "I'm kind of in a hurry ... I need to get this information to Martin."  
  
"Too bad," she pouted. "Maybe some other time?" she added hopefully.  
  
"Maybe," said Logan, quickly putting in, "So, which room is Emma's?"  
  
*******************************************************  
  
Emma's room was very 'un-seventies.' In fact it was virtually 'un- everything' – merely a room with a few pieces of nondescript furniture: bed, bedside table, chest of drawers, and a rather uncomfortable looking chair.  
  
No purples or orange in here – in fact a touch of colour would have been a relief. The blandness was almost overpowering. Logan idly wondered if the owner had purposefully chosen it to completely mask her true self.  
  
There were no family photos to be seen, no well-worn stuffed animals on the bed, no trinkets anywhere. He'd been in women's bedrooms before and he'd never encountered one so dramatically lacking in character as this one. The only thing it lacked was a Gideon's bible to put the last finishing touch to make it appear like any number of mediocre hotel rooms found throughout the country.  
  
He eyed the drawers with some distaste. Now that he was in her room he felt little better than a peeping tom, even though his motives were honourable, he kept telling himself. Perhaps Bling was right and he should've swallowed his pride and got Max to do this after all.  
  
He tried not to notice, but the contents of Emma Belding's drawers told him a great deal about her. No fancy drawer liners, no sexy underwear, everything was plain and functional. The girl seemed to be sadly lacking in imagination, he thought, or maybe it was all part of the 'go-unnoticed' plan. There was certainly nothing amongst her clothing and possessions to attract attention, certainly not from a male point of view, he thought wryly.  
  
What on earth did Martin see in her, he wondered yet again, remembering a bevy of beauties that Martin had dated in the past. He had quite a track record for one so young – and now Emma Belding? Had the leopard changed his spots?  
  
Thankfully closing the last of the drawers, he turned his attention to the closet. The floor held shoes neatly placed together – all low heels, sensible. Hanging were a fairly sparse collection of pants, skirts, jackets. He looked at the brand names, finding only ones he recognized as mass produced, cheap clothing.  
  
His thoughts went back to Valerie's extensive wardrobe, the designer dresses, stiletto shoes, matching handbags – and the familiar scent of her favourite French perfume that managed to pervade everything with its exotic charm, captivating as she had once been. Well, that was all another time, another life ago, he reminded himself.  
  
"You all done in there?" came Charlie's voice from the other room.  
  
"Yeah," Logan called back, aware of a feeling of disappointment. He gave the room one final look, then opened the door and wheeled back out to the small living room.  
  
"Sorry, but I've gotta get goin' in a minute," she said apologetically.  
  
"That's fine. I was finished anyway," Logan smiled at her. "Thanks for your help."  
  
Charlie held the door open for him, watching until Logan was in the elevator, then she went back inside, grabbed a note with a number that was stuck to her refrigerator, and headed for her phone.  
  
**************************************************  
  
Once inside, Logan pressed the button for the ground floor, and waited for the elevator to start moving, musing to himself that detective work was a thankless task, and wondering more than ever what kind of girl Emma Belding could have been. Well, 'is', he mentally chastised himself.  
  
Suddenly he looked about the elevator – he'd been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't realized initially that it, in fact, hadn't moved.  
  
"Great," he muttered, visions of a very long and very boring wait now filling his mind.  
  
Mentally crossing his fingers, he pressed the button with the 'open' icon, breathing a sigh of relief when the doors slid noisily open, but was a little startled when he looked up to find a tall, well built man towering in front of him. Instinctively, he wheeled back a little, disliking the sense of intimidation that washed over him.  
  
"Elevator not working?" the stranger asked.  
  
Logan wondered if he should admit this fact or not, but before he had a chance, the other man got in and pressed the button himself.  
  
Cursing himself for not having exited the elevator, Logan said conversationally, "It did this before. The doors closed and nothing happened."  
  
The other man turned around without a word, and regarded Logan intently. "You a boyfriend of Charlie's?"  
  
Unable to suppress a smile when he thought of all the purple and lime and wondering what a hideous eyesore her bedroom probably was, Logan said, "No."  
  
He was beginning to feel more relaxed. On closer inspection his would be assassin was probably only eighteen or nineteen, and now as Logan spoke to him he realized the boy was not 'menacing', but rather, mentally impaired in some way.  
  
"She has lots of boyfriends," his companion now said in a voice curiously devoid of emotion, which made Logan wonder if he was on some kind of drug to control mood swings or something.  
  
When the elevator showed no inclination to move, the large youth pressed the button again to open the doors, and then to close them.  
  
"You have to do this a few times," he explained to Logan. "It kinda gets stuck."  
  
"Right," Logan replied – thankful that not only was he not going to be assaulted, but he also was not going to be stuck in Emma Belding's apartment building, five floors up, for the rest of the day.  
  
With a sudden flash, Logan asked, "Does Emma have many boyfriends?"  
  
"My name's Seth," the young man said abruptly, holding out a huge hand.  
  
"Logan."  
  
Shaking hands, Logan wondered if Charlie had ever sketched Seth's bear paws. They were the most massive hands he'd ever seen.  
  
"Pleased to meet you," Seth smiled happily.  
  
"Do you know Emma well?" Logan tried again, hoping to bring him back around to the topic he wanted.  
  
"Emma just has one boyfriend, but I haven't seen him in a long time. I haven't seen Emma in a long time," he added a little sadly.  
  
"You two friends?"  
  
"I liked Emma," the other replied with a simple sincerity, which unfortunately didn't tell Logan if the feeling was reciprocated.  
  
Seth pressed the 'lobby' button once more, and this time the elevator vibrated a little then slowly started its descent to the ground floor.  
  
"Thanks," Logan said warmly.  
  
When they got to the ground floor, Seth put out a hand as a signal for Logan to wait while he cautiously looked out the doors. Turning to Logan, he said seriously, "You have to be careful around here, Logan."  
  
Feeling a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, Logan asked, "Did Emma have to be careful too?"  
  
"Everybody does," Seth replied, sounding surprised that Logan didn't know such an elementary fact of life.  
  
"Sure."  
  
Seth now motioned for him to leave the elevator, having completed his careful scrutiny of the lobby.  
  
"Bye, Logan. Nice to meet you."  
  
Before Logan had a chance to reply, the elevator doors closed, and Seth was on his way up again.  
  
******************************************************  
  
With painstaking care, Seth dialled the telephone number, with a slightly anxious air.  
  
Receiving no answer, he hung up the old black phone and dialled again, standing patiently with the phone up to his hear, waiting for a voice on the other end of the line, that never came.  
  
He then sat down, on the very edge of the bed - to wait.  
  
TBC 


	3. Complications

Thanks so much for all the encouraging reviews – very much appreciated as always.  
  
Special thanks to Alaidh who rarely makes mistakes!  
  
Chapter 3  
  
As Logan headed to the car, he let go a breath with some relief; there was nothing in the room to help him find Emma. He had enough Eyes Only projects that he was working on already – he didn't need Martin's vague quest on his plate as well.  
  
He could already imagine what disparaging comments Uncle Jonas would have to say if he knew he'd even done as much as he had. Jonas didn't like people to go against his wishes – particularly Logan. Not that that would stop him from doing something he thought he had to do – it would just make life all the more unpleasant, and he had enough unpleasant things to deal with in his life as it was.  
  
The pavement was cracked and uneven outside the apartment block. Perhaps there had been a need for Emma's sensible shoes, after all, he mused, ruefully catching himself as he saw her in his minds eye, travelling the same path he did now - he was going to drop this whole thing back in Martin's lap, right? Maybe she simply visited her grandmother, or perhaps a friend had unexpectedly fallen ill. They all lived in uncertain times.  
  
Max was right – he couldn't right every wrong, and who knew if there even was a 'wrong' here to be righted?  
  
Logan had just buckled his seatbelt when his cell phone rang. It was Martin.  
  
"Can I meet with you somewhere?" Martin asked at once.  
  
"I don't have anything ..."  
  
"I may have some more info for you."  
  
Logan sighed inwardly. "I'm just heading to the market. I've got some stuff to buy," he said, stretching the truth a considerable distance in the hope that Martin would be put off.  
  
"The one near your place? Great. I'll meet you there in ten."  
  
"Martin ..."  
  
"Ten too soon? Make it twenty if you like."  
  
Logan frowned, considering his options for a moment, and then finally decided that the market was as good a place as any to blow his cousin off. "Twenty then," he agreed half-heartedly.  
  
Martin hung up abruptly at that, leaving Logan to wonder just how he was going to extricate himself from all this.  
  
He was just about to pull into the traffic when his cell rang again.  
  
"Hey," said a familiar voice.  
  
Logan made a face. Max.  
  
"Yeah. Listen, I'm in the car ... can't talk right now."  
  
Receiving nothing but silence, he quickly added, "I gotta head to the market."  
  
"I've got a drop to do opposite there. What about I meet you – maybe I'll treat you to one of those greasy concoctions they pretend are burgers."  
  
Logan grimaced. Things were becoming complicated.  
  
"I won't make it for at least another half-hour," he tried.  
  
"That's fine. Gives me time to do my drop." He could hear the determination in her voice. "So, I'll keep an eye out for ya?"  
  
"Great," he replied, trying to sound enthusiastic.  
  
"Good."  
  
The note of triumph in her voice was unmistakable, even over the phone.  
  
As luck would have it, finding a suitable parking space proved to be almost impossible, and he was seriously contemplating being a complete coward and driving home again, wondering if it would be wiser all round, when he found one.  
  
Glancing at his watch before pushing forward to find Martin, he saw with yet another grimace that twenty minutes had elapsed already. This was definitely not good.  
  
The market was quite crowded. People were taking advantage of the fickle sun that had decided to deign Seattle with its presence, after the rain that had pelted down earlier.  
  
Logan wished he'd organized a set place to meet Martin – it was hard work pushing through the crowds and he didn't fancy doing a tour of the whole site.  
  
The ramshackle stalls, mostly wooden constructions with canvas awnings, were arranged in long lines that made it impossible to see from one row to the next. Logan glanced at his watch as he paused for a moment – but visions of Max running into Martin made him push on with renewed vigour.  
  
Logan had almost reached the end of the second row when he heard Martin calling his name.  
  
Greatly relieved, Logan headed to where his cousin waited at the end of one of the rows of stalls, leaning casually up against a brick wall.  
  
It only added insult to injury that Martin had watched the world go by while he had raised quite a sweat manoeuvring his way through the crowds.  
  
It was just as well Martin had called out, as otherwise, in all probability, he would have passed by him. His cousin looked like he'd bought his clothes at a jumble sale – torn jeans, battered bomber jacket, and a rather grubby baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes were a remarkable contrast to the business suit and glittering ring of the day before.  
  
Martin eyed him seriously, saying without preamble, "You spoke to her roommate?"  
  
Logan stopped and looked up at that, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What makes you say that?"  
  
"Nothing. I was just hoping, that's all," Martin told him. "So ... did you?"  
  
"Yeah. I saw Charlie."  
  
Martin's face fell. "No go, huh?"  
  
Logan considered his cousin for a moment, before saying, "Martin, are you sure she's 'missing'? You don't think maybe she left town of her own free will? Maybe she had something to get away from," he suggested blandly.  
  
"I think you mean 'someone' don't you, Logan?"  
  
"No-o-o-o, I mean what I said," replied Logan, unruffled.  
  
"I think I may have a possible sighting of her."  
  
Logan shook his head, eyeing his cousin with frustration. "Martin. This really isn't my thing. What do I know about looking for a missing person? It's not the kinda stuff I look into." Then, catching Martin scanning the crowds, he added, "You expecting someone?"  
  
Ignoring the question, Martin said almost impatiently, "Logan, I don't have anyone else to turn to."  
  
Logan gave him a long look.  
  
Reaching into the gym bag he carried, Martin pulled out a large manila envelope.  
  
"I've got an appointment to get to. Just do me this one favour and check this lead out. It's all I'll ask of you," he added persuasively.  
  
As Logan showed no inclination to accept it, Martin gave another quick look around, saying, "I've got to go.' Before Logan had a chance to react, he'd tossed the envelope into Logan's lap, then virtually turned and ran, calling out something that sounded like, "thanks," over his shoulder.  
  
"Martin," Logan called after him exasperatedly.  
  
If his cousin heard, he paid no notice, and with an angry sigh, Logan watched him quickly disappear into the crowd.  
  
Logan looked down at the envelope with tightened lips. Well, that did it. He was going to wash his hands of the whole affair. His cousin could go and cry on his Uncle's shoulder for all he cared.  
  
He swung around, suddenly remembering that Max should be there by now.  
  
"Would you be Logan Cale?"  
  
Logan looked up to see a well-dressed man in his forties standing in front of him. Turning his head slightly, he felt, rather than saw, another man standing at his back.  
  
Careful to keep the surprise and the growing apprehension he was feeling from his face, he asked evenly, "Who wants to know?"  
  
"It's quite crowded here, why don't we move into that alleyway where we can talk ...without interruption," was the other man's reply.  
  
Logan looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, quickly considering his options. They didn't appear to be plentiful.  
  
"Maybe I'm happy right where I am," he tried.  
  
"We don't want to have to be ... 'persuasive'," the other man said, holding up his hands in an apologetic gesture.  
  
Logan nodded with a wry smile, and spun around, taking a quick look at the person behind him as he did so. Either the man's suit was too small for him or his muscles were too large for the suit  
  
He hated to admit it, but Max's face would look real good right now, Martin or no Martin.  
  
The sun that had been shining with such promise suddenly disappeared behind some dark clouds, and Logan, vaguely aware of the fact, could only hope this wasn't some kind of bad omen.  
  
It made the alleyway look all the more less appealing, littered as it was with garbage from a dumpster that had reached its capacity probably weeks ago. Logan wrinkled his nose with disgust – the smell was almost overpowering.  
  
"Do you want to tell me what this is all about?" asked Logan, feeling the first inklings of panic beginning to set in. Was it possible that someone had finally put a face to Eyes Only? Leaning back nonchalantly nonetheless, he awaited their reply, lightly resting his left hand on the inner wheel, avoiding the mud that was now clinging to the rubber tire.  
  
"We'll take 'that' first of all." With surprise, Logan realized he was motioning to the envelope that still lay in his lap.  
  
Before he had a chance to respond, the muscle bound man reached forward and grabbed it.  
  
Logan took a deep breath – this was becoming very confusing.  
  
"And then we want to point out to you that it would be less painful for everybody all around if you forget about Emma Belding."  
  
Nodding his head in slow appreciation of what had been intimated, Logan asked, "Does that mean 'you' know where she is?"  
  
He had to admit that the sudden movement of the Arnold Schwarzenegger type made his heart beat uncomfortably fast. He did his best not to flinch.  
  
"George," the speaker admonished quickly, which made his huge companion stop as if he'd been turned off at the switch.  
  
This time the suave man stepped forward, and his smooth manner was almost more intimidating than the other's brawn. "No," he replied silkily, "what that means is that you are to tell your cousin that if we see him interfering in this matter again, we'll simply kill him ... and you too of course," he added, almost as an afterthought.  
  
"Right," Logan responded at his most diplomatic, seriously hoping that the lecture ended there.  
  
He saw the smaller man motion to 'George', and he tensed instinctively, but to his relief, both men simply walked out of the alleyway, and were soon swallowed up in the crowd as Martin had been.  
  
Logan rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully, quietly pleased to find that his hand was still steady and it felt as though his heart had almost returned to its regular beat.  
  
"Martin, what have you got yourself mixed up in?" he muttered, as he wheeled back through the mud and out into the market again.  
  
"Hey."  
  
He looked up, this time to finally find a face he was glad to see.  
  
"You been hiding? I've been lookin' for you everywhere." One hand on her hip, the other holding her bike, her cheeks pink from the exertion of riding – she looked beautiful, but then, when did she ever not?  
  
"Yeah, it's busy here today, isn't it?" he managed, still feeling slightly put out by the last few minutes.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
He could see Max looking at him closely.  
  
"Sure. So, you hungry?"  
  
"Need you ask?" she retorted, giving him a sideways glance.  
  
Without another word, Logan pushed through the crowd, thankful that he had to concentrate on what he was doing and not meet that penetrating gaze of hers.  
  
"Where are we headed?" asked Max, finally able to come up alongside him as the crowds thinned a little.  
  
"I thought you said something about grease?"  
  
"Oh yeah. I want some'a that big time," she grinned.  
  
"No accounting for taste," he quipped back.  
  
Logan stopped, and with a nod of his head, motioned to a very ordinary looking diner. It looked a little cramped inside, but there were a few rickety tables and chairs outside, and at least the sun had decided to shine once more. Not what he would have chosen, but it was the only thing around, and he felt in severe need of a caffeine fix himself after his encounter in the alley.  
  
Max smiled her agreement "I've dropped in here before. My treat," she added, as she padlocked her bike to a nearby pole. "What d'you wanna have?"  
  
Logan took one look through the doorway. "Just coffee."  
  
"Coward," she murmured.  
  
"I'll wait out here and grab a table," Logan replied, refusing to take the bait.  
  
Max went inside and Logan moved up to one of the tables and set his brakes, making sure that he was facing the roadway – he'd had enough surprises for one day.  
  
Scanning the crowd he could see no sign of 'George' and co.  
  
It annoyed him intensely that he had no idea what was in that envelope. It annoyed him intensely that he was going to have to admit to Martin that it had been effortlessly taken from him, and finally, it annoyed him intensely that Martin had obviously been less than honest with him.  
  
His cousin must have known he was being tailed – it explained his nervous behaviour earlier.  
  
Logan picked up one of the sachets of sugar that sat in a chipped bowl on the table, idly watching as he turned it end to end and felt the granules flow from top to bottom as another unwelcome thought came to him – how did they know his name? The only people who'd known he had visited Charlie were Bling, Charlie herself, Seth, and Martin.  
  
Max came out at that moment carrying a tray with their food, or rather, her food, and his coffee.  
  
"There you go," she smiled, putting it in front of him.  
  
Logan took it gratefully, desperate enough to ignore his distaste of drinking out of Styrofoam cups. It was hot, and strong, and surprisingly, a reasonable quality.  
  
After a few gulps he could feel himself beginning to relax – it was a fatal mistake, he should have known better.  
  
"Did I tell you I think I'm beginning to have visions?" asked Max conversationally, biting into her burger.  
  
"Mmm?" Logan murmured, not paying a lot of attention.  
  
"Yeah. Thought I saw your cousin Martin - again - here at the market. Just before I found you."  
  
Now she definitely had his attention.  
  
"Oh?" he managed to get out, quickly taking another gulp of his coffee.  
  
"Kinda strange wouldn't you say, after I saw him outside your place last night too."  
  
"Guess so," agreed Logan without expression.  
  
Looking at him as she sipped her Coke, Max decided she'd had enough of the sniper fire – it was time for a full on frontal attack.  
  
"Did you see him?" she asked with purpose this time – brown eyes boring into his green ones behind the glasses.  
  
Max thought he was looking distinctly uncomfortable – she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.  
  
Logan looked back out towards the crowd, his mind processing the facts with computer-like precision. Martin had lied, he had no doubt of that, but where did that leave Emma Belding? Was she the innocent pawn in all this? The stakes had unexpectedly gone up a notch once people started throwing words like 'persuasion' and 'killing' around.  
  
Under the table, he ran his hand along the side of his thigh almost as a reminder – he knew he was out of his depth. He needed Max.  
  
"I was meeting Martin ... here," he added, a slight hint of defiance in his voice. After all, he was free to meet with whomever he chose.  
  
Max simply raised her eyebrows. Logan could see she was being perverse; he'd finally admitted what she wanted to hear, and now she was going to make out that she didn't care one way or the other.  
  
"He came to see if I'd help him. His girlfriend mysteriously disappeared."  
  
"Like 'you' need to care," she answered unsympathetically. "She probably shows remarkable good sense - I'd wanna disappear if I was his girlfriend too."  
  
Reaching into his pocket, Logan brought out the small photo of Emma Belding that Martin had given him.  
  
Max glanced at it briefly. "Hardly seems his type," she snorted.  
  
Logan frowned at her.  
  
"So now cousin Martin comes running to you," Max continued, ignoring his glare. "Kinda gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling doesn't it? How come he didn't turn to dear ole dad?" she added sharply.  
  
"Apparently 'dear ole Jonas' didn't approve."  
  
"Why doesn't that surprise me? Probably means the girl's 'half-way' decent," she added sceptically. "So, you fell for his bleeding heart story?"  
  
"The girl could be in real trouble, Max," he replied earnestly.  
  
Max rolled her eyes – she could sense a Logan Cale lecture coming on.  
  
"It's just possible this girl has no one else who cares about her," he continued seriously.  
  
"She has Martin."  
  
"A helluva lot of good he is."  
  
"You 'did' tell him to shove it, Logan!"  
  
"Max. It wasn't that easy..."  
  
"What's hard about 'NO'?"  
  
"Oh yeah, like you do to your family when they need you," retorted Logan, remembering an evening of uncooked chickens and untimely interruptions.  
  
Ignoring that one, Max said, "Just what does he expect you to do?"  
  
"He's hoping I still have some contacts."  
  
"Me? - 'I'm hoping he'll go away – like a BAD DREAM."  
  
"I didn't say you had to be involved in this," Logan told her, trying to hold on to his patience with difficulty. "I kinda figured you'd take it this way - that's why you weren't in the loop."  
  
Max looked across at him at that. "Well, we do have our quid pro quo," she reminded him a little stiffly as she drained the last remnants of her drink.  
  
"So, you'll help me with this if I need it?" asked Logan, a little surprised at her sudden change of attitude.  
  
"Sure," agreed Max blithely, "maybe I'll get the chance to kick his ass."  
  
Logan grinned at that.  
  
"Any reason why your dear cousin would be watching you now?"  
  
Logan looked at her in sudden surprise. "What d'you mean?"  
  
Without turning her head, Max said, "He's standing in a doorway, the opposite side of the road. I dunno," she shrugged, "maybe he's planning for the future."  
  
There were a couple of more 'up market' shops further down the road, but Logan couldn't make out anyone standing in a doorway. Of course he didn't have X5 eyesight.  
  
"You see the shop selling kids clothes, toys, whatever?" she asked.  
  
Logan nodded.  
  
"That's him."  
  
"I need to talk to him," said Logan grimly.  
  
"That can be arranged," said Max hopefully.  
  
"Not here though – it's too open."  
  
"There's a disused warehouse a few doors down. Why don't you head there, and I'll hook Martin?"  
  
Logan looked at her a touch suspiciously, wondering just what it was she had in mind.  
  
TBC 


	4. Explanations

Glad to hear you're all enjoying this – thanks so much for the reviews. They are very much appreciated!  
  
Thank you once again Alaidh for the beta!  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Martin had moved from the doorway when he saw Logan and Max separate, and now moved cautiously along the pavement, still on the opposite side to Logan, making sure he kept his cousin in view.  
  
Puzzled, he watched as Logan disappeared through the opening of a small, ramshackle warehouse, where double doors had once kept its contents safe from theft. Now there was nothing left in it to steal, birds being the only ones who found it useful as they flew in and out through the many gaps in the roof. Prime real estate, but who had the money to buy it?  
  
With a quick look along the road, he darted across and had just cautiously put his head around the corner when an arm that felt like a steel bar suddenly hooked itself across his neck and proceeded to slowly squeeze and constrict his airway until he found breathing almost impossible. Terrified, he clawed at the arm, trying to splutter out, "I didn't do anything!"  
  
A harsh voice in his ear grated, "You get your kicks outta pervin' on pretty girls?"  
  
With relief, he felt the pressure on his throat relax slightly, and he was able to gasp, "I wasn't _perving_ on anyone."  
  
"Yeah, well what were you doing watching us from that shop – or else you're just plain _sicko?" _ the voice added with disgust. "Do you know what I do to dirtbags like you?"  
  
Max was enjoying herself, so she was a little disappointed to see Logan come forward at that point, having heard the noise outside.  
  
Martin looked at his cousin with relief, at the same time a suspicion forming at the back of his mind that he'd been 'had.'  
  
"Logan. Tell her I'm your cousin," he ground out with more control.  
  
Torn between exasperation and amusement, Logan said one word with emphasis – _"Max._"  
  
Max let go and pulled Martin roughly around. She eyed Martin in astonishment. "Logan, you gotta be kidding me. This dirtbag's your cousin? Never saw a Cale dress like that before," she finished disparagingly, giving him a particularly scornful once over.  
  
Martin eyed her with fury, feeling the colour rise in his cheeks.  
  
Feeling that Max had gone far enough, Logan said to Max, "You wanna check and see that no one else is listening in?"  
  
Max favoured Martin with a final ironic scrutiny before heading to the doorway.  
  
Martin looked at Logan. "I had no idea Max was your bodyguard." He tried to smile as he spoke in an attempt to regain his usual self-assured composure, but all in all it sounded more like petulance. "She has quite a sting in her tail."  
  
"She does some legwork for me," Logan replied evenly, thinking if this whole deal had been only about Martin, he wouldn't go near it with a ten- foot pole. "I think you owe me a few explanations," he continued with a decided edge to his voice.  
  
Leaning back in his chair, he had the distinct impression Martin was feeling guilty. It only served to confirm his own suspicions.  
  
"What?" said Martin defensively at last, beginning to wilt under his cousin's stare.  
  
"You _knew_ you were being tailed?" It was more a statement than a question.  
  
"I didn't know they'd go after _you_. I would have stepped in if anything had happened," Martin snapped back.  
  
Logan seriously doubted that.  
  
"Everything's clear," said Max, returning.  
  
"Besides, you seemed to have everything well in hand – you didn't look too bothered about the whole thing."  
  
"Had 'what' well in hand?" asked Max.  
  
Logan grunted with exasperation. "It's not that Martin. It's that you haven't told me the truth. Firstly, what was in the envelope?"  
  
"What envelope?" asked Max, hands on her hips.  
  
"I had no idea they were after it," Martin said coldly.  
  
"Okay, who's 'they'," put in Max, looking from one to the other.  
  
"You wanna tell us the whole story this time Martin?"  
  
"Someone had better," threatened Max.  
  
Trying to assume a confident air, Martin stuffed his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket and launched into an explanation.  
  
"I had a P.I. look into Emma's disappearance when she first went missing. The stuff in the envelope was the little he'd discovered. The guy cost me a small fortune too," he added with disgust, "and that's all I was able to get from him."  
  
"You _did_ make a copy didn't you?" Logan had a feeling he already knew the answer to that one.  
  
Martin's embarrassed shake of his head confirmed his expectations.  
  
"Well, what was the P.I.'s name? We'll just get it from him again," shrugged Max.  
  
"They fished him out of the bay four days ago," Martin admitted quietly.  
  
Max and Logan exchanged glances.  
  
"I don't know for sure if it had anything to do with _my_ case," Martin protested.  
  
"Where's the envelope now?" Max was beginning to feel uneasy about this whole affair.  
  
"Two guys had been following me. I swear I didn't know they were here, Logan," he added quickly. "I wouldn't have given it to you if I'd known."  
  
Max shot a look at Logan. "They took it from you?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And you _knew_ about this?" She directed her scornful glare at Martin.  
  
Feeling as if he were being pinned to a wall with the daggers coming from Max's impossibly rich, chocolate brown eyes, Martin squirmed inwardly. He did have 'some' conscience, and he hadn't been happy to see his cousin escorted down the alley. He just hadn't known what to do. "Nothing happened, okay! They just took the envelope – isn't that right, Logan?"  
  
Max looked at Logan suspiciously.  
  
"Well, we can't do anything here," Logan said to Martin, unaware of the deadly glare Max was directing at his cousin. "You'd better come to my apartment and tell me what you remember from the P.I.'s stuff there."  
  
"He's being tailed, Logan," Max put in flatly.  
  
"Since when has any tail got the better of you?" he smiled up at her.  
  
"Okay," Max relented, not entirely happy. "We'll all go in your car."  
  
"I've got my car parked nearby," Martin said.  
  
"Leave it," Max responded brusquely.  
  
When Martin looked like he was going to argue, Max turned on him and said hotly, "You want Logan's help on this? Then you're gonna do whatever he says, or you can just forget about our help!"  
  
Martin looked at her for a moment with dislike written on his face, but wisely said nothing and followed Logan to the door.  
  
"How do you wanna play this?" Logan asked her quietly.  
  
"Tell Martin where your car is parked. We'll head there first and load my bike in. How much time will we need?"  
  
"It's not far from here – five should do it."  
  
Turning to Martin, Max gave him his final instructions. "You understand what you have to do? We need to make a clean getaway when you come, so you've_ got_ to give us time to load the car."  
  
"Of course I understand," Martin returned with more of his usual bravado.  
  
Max watched him closely as Logan gave him directions to the Aztek.  
  
"You got it?" she checked.  
  
On Martin's nod of agreement, she followed Logan back out onto the sidewalk.

  
  
"So, you think he's on the level with us?" Max asked Logan as she caught up with him after unlocking her bike.  
  
Logan cast a quick glance up at her, raising his eyebrows sceptically. "Guess only time will tell."  
  
Dissatisfied, Max determined to keep a very close eye on Martin Cale.  
  
"You wanna give me the keys and I'll go on ahead and load my bike?"  
  
Logan stopped and tossed her the keys saying, "I'm parked just around the corner."  
  
"Don't dawdle," she grinned with a quick backwards glance as she hurried along the sidewalk in front of him. Within seconds she'd turned the corner and was out of sight.  
  
Logan glanced at his watch. They still had at least three minutes before Martin was due, but he pushed that little bit faster just in case.  
  
By the time he'd arrived at the car, Max had her bike in and the driver's door opened.  
  
Logan was just preparing to transfer when a figure came bounding around the corner at full pace as if a pack of wild dogs was at his heels.  
  
Logan looked up to see Martin looking at them with relief, but then his cousin quickly cast another glance behind as the sound of a second figure approaching could be heard.  
  
Taking the situation in a glance, Max turned to Logan. "Quick, get in, key's in the ignition," she snapped.  
  
Once he was in she grabbed his wheelchair and stowed it in the back with her bike, while Logan started the car.  
  
Martin had made it to the car by this time and had dived into the back.  
  
Max closed the hatch and tailgate and turned to find herself confronted by a man holding a gun.  
  
Without giving the man a chance to speak, Max's right leg stretched out and up with a speed almost too quick for the eye. Her foot caught the man on his wrist and hand, forcing the gun into the air as the man cried out with pain. Stepping in quickly, Max delivered a sharp right hook to the man's jaw and this time he fell to the ground without making a sound.  
  
She was about to make a dash for the front passenger door when another man came around the corner.  
  
"Don't you have a gun or something?" Martin asked Logan with genuine concern when the second man came into view.  
  
"Max can handle it," Logan snapped tensely.  
  
"Can't you do _something_?" Martin asked Logan frantically, whether out of concern for himself or concern for Max, Logan wasn't sure. Even less sure was he of what he was supposed to do to help Max since his wheelchair was inaccessible in the back of the car. Martin was, after all, the able bodied one. If the situation hadn't been so serious he would have laughed outright.  
  
Instead of waiting for the second man to approach her, Max ran straight at him, at the last minute throwing up her forearm as if to defend herself, but in a sudden movement she changed her action and gave him a paralysing karate type jab to his larynx. The man sagged at the knees, trying to whoop in a breath with agonizing gasps.  
  
Looking around quickly to see if Martin had any other 'friends' and finding the coast clear, Max ran around to the front passenger seat and dived in.  
  
Logan had the car in motion before she'd even closed her door, and headed down the road as fast as he dared in a built-up area. He had no desire to be pulled over by sector police, and there was the danger of knocking down a pedestrian as people ambled back and forth across the roads around the market.  
  
"Turn here," said Max, motioning to a road on the left.  
  
Logan swung the car quickly, the tires screeching a little in protest as he turned, then turned again almost immediately into another street on the right that Max indicated, all the while his eyes darting to the rear-view mirror.  
  
Max turned her head to look out the back. "No sign of a tail so far," she murmured.  
  
Concentrating on the road ahead, Logan nodded.  
  
"We'd better wind around a bit before we head to your place, just in case."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Either of you boys recognize those two back there?"  
  
"Not me," answered Logan.  
  
"Nor me," added Martin.  
  
All of a sudden, Max turned to Martin. "We _told_ you to give us five," she admonished sharply.  
  
"I was waiting like you said, and then this guy showed up across the street and started heading towards me," put in Martin quickly.  
  
"So you panicked and decided to bring _your_ heap o' trouble down on us," she retorted scathingly.  
  
Martin eyed her angrily. "Listen, it may surprise you to know that I'm new to all this, and I'm certainly _not _used to people chasing me with guns."  
  
"It's a funny thing, when you lie down in the _dirt_, some of it tends ta stick," Max said pointedly.  
  
"What's that meant to mean?" grated Martin, barely holding on to his temper.  
  
In the front seat, Logan rolled his eyes. Maybe bringing Max in on this hadn't been such an inspired idea after all. "I'd say we're clear," he said to Max. "I'm gonna head home."

  
  
"Mind if I use the bathroom?" Martin asked Logan as soon as they were in the door.  
  
"Sure. You know where it is."  
  
Max waited until she was sure he was out of hearing before she turned on Logan. "You sure you know what you're doing? He's nothing but trouble, Logan," she stated flatly.  
  
Quickly checking that there was nothing incriminating lying around that Martin may come across, at the same time picking up his notebook and pen, Logan simply said, "There's a missing girl out there somewhere who has no one to bat for her."  
  
"So?" replied Max callously, "just add her to the many."  
  
"You don't mean that, Max."  
  
Max thought for a moment, before finally saying with a small, slow smile, "It's what I'd _like_ to do if it meant getting Martin out've our hair."  
  
Logan looked up at her, giving her a small answering smile back – maybe it was the way she'd said, 'our' ... like a partnership.  
  
"Don't forget who he has for a father," he reminded her, looking away to close the sliding doors to his study.  
  
"Yeah, well at least he has one."  
  
Logan looked up at her. "It just goes to show that growing up with a mom and dad doesn't necessarily make for perfection."  
  
"Maybe it would have been nice to have been given the choice," Max said quietly.  
  
"I need a drink, Logan. Something strong," Martin started talking before he'd even reached the living room, his voice assertively loud.  
  
"That can wait until you tell us what we need to know," Logan responded, setting his brakes and picking up the notebook and pen he'd put between his legs.  
  
"There's not much I can tell you, Logan. The guy was hopelessly inept."  
  
"Yeah, so 'inept' he got himself killed," put in Max dryly from where she stood at the window.  
  
"Like I said ... I have no idea what that was all about."  
  
"I'm glad you're strong-minded enough to resist feeling guilty about it," she congratulated him.  
  
Logan folded his arms, fast losing patience. "Can we stick to the matter at hand? Martin, _what_ was in the envelope?"  
  
"Mostly just information I already knew: that she worked for Quintor, hadn't been seen there since the 6th of this month, the same day _I_ last saw her, she didn't appear to have many friends, kept to herself, and I was about the only person she seemed to have regular contact with."  
  
"An exciting life," said Max dryly.  
  
"Nothing else?" queried Logan.  
  
"Just one thing. He thought he may have had a sighting of her."  
  
"_Major news_, wouldn't you say?" Logan suggested ironically.  
  
Martin shook his head. "It was nothing confirmed. Sounded unlikely to me. Supposedly one of the people she worked with thought they'd seen her down at South Market."  
  
"What's so unlikely about that?" asked Max.  
  
"Emma go to South Market? _By herself_?" Martin looked shocked.  
  
"Maybe she was dragged there unwillingly."  
  
Martin shook his head. "The whole thing sounded pretty vague. They weren't sure it was her, just looked like Emma from a distance."  
  
"Then _why_ were you even bothering to give it to me?" asked Logan, becoming increasingly frustrated.  
  
"I just thought I should give you everything I had. I thought the background information would be useful."  
  
Max looked across at Logan. "Maybe there was a jewel amongst all the crap?"  
  
"I guess we'll never know, will we," he answered her, their eyes meeting.  
  
"I oughtta get back to work," Max said abruptly, quickly walking over to one of the kitchen counters where she'd dumped her bag.  
  
Not bothering to excuse himself to Martin, Logan followed her. "Thanks for your help ... again."  
  
"Sure."  
  
"You'll have Normal on your case," Logan remarked, for once feeling the need to see her to the door.  
  
Max let a subtle smile light up her eyes. "I'll tell him I had a flat tire. See ya."  
  
Logan was about to close the door when Max turned back to him. "Logan, you'll keep me in the loop on this, won't you?"  
  
Logan looked up at her a little taken aback - the question had been unexpected. He hesitated, not entirely sure it was something he wanted to commit to. He took a deep breath. "Yeah," he finally agreed.  
  
At least his answer seemed to satisfy Max.  
  
Logan closed the door, a puzzled but quietly pleased look on his face.  
  
"So, is Max ex-military or something?" Martin asked jokingly, breaking in on his thoughts as he called to Logan from the living room end of the hallway.  
  
"She's into martial arts," Logan said curtly, in a discouraging tone.  
  
"You two seem to be quite a 'team' at any rate," he continued.  
  
"Do you want that drink before you go?" asked Logan pointedly.  
  
For an answer, Martin strode across to where he'd seen his cousin get the drink the previous evening. "Great. You want one?"  
  
Logan shook his head, thinking that if he accepted it would only delay Martin's departure.  
  
Pouring his drink, Martin asked, "So, have you two known each other long?"  
  
Logan could feel the irritation rising. The last thing he wanted was for Max to become scuttlebutt for the Cale family. This was a side effect he hadn't counted on when he had asked Max for her help on this.  
  
"She's just a friend, Martin. Like I said, she does some legwork for me."  
  
Martin looked at Logan, but the sarcastic comment he was about to make about 'friends' died on his lips. He had quite a few memories of having been on the receiving side of Logan's sarcasm, and for all his confident manner, he still had a regard for his cousin's temper.  
  
Instead, he nodded his head diplomatically, quickly gulped down his drink, and said his goodbyes.  
  
Not bothering to see him to the door this time, Logan called after him, "You'd better watch your back. Whoever it is you're messing with are fond of the word 'kill'."  
  
Martin came back down the hallway at that remark to look at Logan with a face that looked slightly paler than usual.  
  
"They said that to you?" he asked, trying to appear calm, but looking quite shaken nonetheless. "What should I do?"  
  
"I think I'd lay low and put up at a hotel where no one knows me, under an assumed name," Logan stated matter-of-factly.  
  
"How can I do that? What would Dad say? He'd be expecting me at work."  
  
Logan shrugged. "You asked me what I'd do."  
  
Martin looked past Logan for a few moments, his mind quickly adding up all his options.  
  
"I'll have to think about this," he said finally.  
  
"Fine," Logan replied, unlocking his brakes, preparing to turn around.  
  
With a distracted nod, Martin walked to the door and let himself out.  
  
TBC


	5. Field Ops

Once again, many thanks to all those kind enough to review!  
  
Thank you, as always, to Alaidh, for the beta!  
  
Chapter 5  
  
"So, you managed to get rid of him?" Max asked, coming around the corner to find Logan ensconced in front of his computer.  
  
He leaned back and gave her a lazy smile.  
  
"Three's a crowd," he quipped, waving a hand towards the dining table, which Max now noticed was set for dinner, complete with candles and red wine.  
  
"Wow, what's the occasion?"  
  
Unlocking his brakes and pushing back from the desk with his hands, he bit his lip before looking up at her.  
  
"I know Martin's done nothing to _endear_ himself to you. I guess I wanted to say thanks ... you know ... for helping me out on this thing."  
  
Logan looked up at her a little tensely, waiting on her reaction.  
  
Surprised, and more than a little touched by his thoughtfulness, Max shrugged it off with a, "No big dealio."  
  
Logan appeared satisfied with that, and headed to the table, holding up the wine with a questioning expression.  
  
Max nodded, continuing with her previous thought, "Besides, you're right – maybe someone out there does need our help ... and he does have a nice ass."  
  
Logan paused in the act of pouring her wine.  
  
"For kicking," she finished smoothly.

D/A D/A D/A D/A D/A

Washing down her last bite with a gulp of wine, Max looked across at Logan. "Did you find out any more about Martin's dead P.I.?"  
  
"That would be Bryan Burke, of Burke's Detective Agency."  
  
"Sounds impressive," commented Max.  
  
"Yeah, well, the guy showed up impressively _dead_. Five bullets, at least one of them through the heart, have a way of doing that," said Logan, draining his glass, then looking thoughtfully at the last few drops to be found in it.  
  
"Someone wanted to make sure he didn't rise and shine," grimaced Max. "I wonder what was in that envelope?"  
  
"You heard what Martin said."  
  
"Like I'd trust what _he _said. You got an address on this guy?"  
  
When Logan didn't answer, but checked his watch instead, she said lightly, "You got some other hot date lined up?"  
  
"Ahhh, not quite," he corrected her. "I've got a meet with Matt Sung at ten. I had Bling get some copies of Emma's photo – I'm gonna give one to Matt. He said he'd run a check through missing persons ... see if he could come up with something. I want to get one to my contact at the morgue as well. Beverly said she'd keep an eye out – just in case," he finished grimly.  
  
"You want some company?"  
  
"Sure. I've heard it's a lonely life on the road," he added, starting to collect up the dishes.  
  
"Maybe we could check out Burke's Detective Agency?"  
  
"The thought _had _crossed my mind," he admitted with a sly grin, putting a stack of dirty dishes on his lap. "You prepared for something like that?"  
  
"We transgenic cat burglars are always prepared."

D/A D/A D/A D/A D/A

"I'll see what I can do, Logan, but I've got to say, this girl's just one of the many, I'm afraid."  
  
Matt stood by Logan's car door, glancing down at the photo in his hand. "How come Eyes Only is interested in her?" he asked through the open driver's door window.  
  
Logan shrugged, thinking it was better to feign ignorance. He didn't want to bring Martin into it if he could help it. "I'm not too sure," he replied, feeling a little bad about lying to Matt. "You'd better get going," he added with a nod outside the car towards the rain that had decided to change from a drizzle to a fully fledged downpour.  
  
Matt quickly put the photo in his pocket, and with a smile towards Max and a couple of raps on the car door, he turned away and headed back to his own car.  
  
Logan looked at the rain with distaste. "Are you sure you wanna do the Agency tonight?" he said, pulling out into what little traffic there was at that time of night.  
  
"That's funny. You didn't think twice about sending me out in the storm from hell last week to lift that disk for you," murmured Max with a sideways glance at him.  
  
"Just because I didn't actually say anything, doesn't mean I was _happy_ about sending you out on a night like that."  
  
"Maybe it's good for the General to go out on patrol with the Field Commander," Max said slyly.  
  
"I thought that was a post you weren't accepting,"  
  
"I'm not," she retorted.

D/A D/A D/A D/A D/A

"Not what you'd call up-market," Max commented, as they pulled up in front of what looked like a small, two-storey, office block in a particularly seedy part of Seattle.  
  
Max looked around. Fortunately the bad weather appeared to have kept a lot of people off the street. It was the type of area where a car looked conspicuously out of place – except ones that had been stripped bare by thieves and abandoned.  
  
"Lock your doors," she said to Logan as she got out, having grabbed a few of her implements that were prerequisites for breaking and entering, "if you hope to have a car to drive away in."  
  
Logan watched her enter the building, and then settled in for what he thought may turn out to be a long wait, watching the vicinity warily.  
  
It was a depressing neighbourhood, having once been an area where small businesses had flourished, but the legitimate businesses had long since fled the area, leaving it to be overrun with prostitutes, pimps and illegal gambling establishments, to name just a fraction of the crime that flourished there. He couldn't imagine Martin picking his way through this lot.  
  
Idly drumming his hand on the wheel, Logan watched a group of young men that came out from one of the many bars in the area. They seemed to be discussing, from their gestures, where to go next, until one of them grabbed the other by the arm, and then Logan saw them all look in his direction.  
  
Grabbing his gun from the door compartment, Logan watched carefully as they approached the Aztek, his fingers closing over the handle.  
  
Sitting very still, Logan watched them as they approached the car, only to be incredibly relieved when they walked past the car, and entered what looked like some type of bar just behind him.  
  
"Come on, Max," he muttered impatiently, knowing it was, in fact, far too early to expect her back.  
  
Several minutes later, looking towards the building across the road into which Max had vanished, he was surprised to see her come running towards the car.  
  
He put down his window as she came around to his door, obviously with the intention of talking to him.  
  
"Logan, you gotta come and take a look at this," she said cryptically.  
  
Logan looked at her for a moment, then turned to grab his chair.  
  
Max did a quick check of the area while he set it up and transferred, then watched silently while he grabbed his gun from the door compartment. She wouldn't use one herself, but she had no compunction about Logan using one.  
  
Wondering what it was he had to see, Logan waited for Max to open the door to the offices, then pushed his way in while she stopped the door from swinging shut on him.  
  
"This way," she said curtly.  
  
Following Max was easier said than done, as once inside, it was incredibly dark, neither one wanting to put on an overhead light to advertise their presence.  
  
After losing her twice in a maze of corridors – it was surprising once inside how extensive the building actually was - he stopped and pulled out a small flashlight from his jacket pocket.  
  
"_Max,"_ he hissed into the darkness, flicking the small beam of light in the direction he thought she'd gone, only to thump a hand to his chest to stop his racing heart when he felt a hand drop to his shoulder.  
  
"This way," she said quietly, oblivious to the cardiac arrest she'd almost caused, then wordlessly holding out her hand to take the flashlight.  
  
Taking a deep breath and throwing her an annoyed look, Logan followed the beam of light she now directed in front for his benefit.  
  
Having lost all sense of direction by this time, he could only assume that Max knew what she was doing, they entered what looked like a small office.  
  
"Is this it?" Logan whispered, wondering why he was bothering to when it was obvious there was no one else in the building – only a cat would be able to see in darkness such as this.  
  
Max gave Logan back the flashlight, which he immediately directed in an arc around the room. The small, but powerful light showed him that they were in a small office, containing little more than a desk, and an area with a small sink for making tea and coffee, and a few wooden chairs. Directing the beam back towards Max, he could see her opening something, and then suddenly the room was awash with light that was flooding in from another room, now revealed, before him.  
  
Max turned and grinned when she saw Logan looking through the doorway in astonishment.  
  
Wheeling in, Logan found himself in a windowless room that was filled with rows of filing cabinets. Opening one of the filing cabinets, Logan found a series of folders filed alphabetically. Lifting one at random that pertained to a case he knew nothing about, he quickly scanned through it, amazed to find the most exacting detail, all written in long hand, and a series of photos.  
  
"What was it Martin said about his P.I?" Max asked.  
  
"It certainly wasn't that he was extremely thorough and methodical," Logan murmured, looking about him. "This guy was no run-of –the –mill, cheap, outta work cop. The man must've_ loved_ his work."  
  
"Makes you wonder all the more what was in that envelope, doesn't it."  
  
"Have you checked through 'B'?"  
  
Max opened one of the top drawers, and brought out a manila folder, opening it wide to show that it was empty. "This is it. Emma Belding."  
  
Logan held out his hand and she passed it to him. It was definitely empty – and there wasn't even a note scribbled on the outside of the folder, he noticed, before shoving it behind his back.  
  
With a disappointed sigh, Logan looked around the room, quickly marvelling again at the incredible sense of order to be found everywhere. "Damn. This guy may have really been onto something."  
  
Max opened another cupboard marked 'Surveillance Tapes'.  
  
"You don't suppose ...?" she said hopefully.  
  
"Worth a try," Logan shrugged. "I wonder why this guy has no computers."  
  
"Not _everyone's_ obsessed with modern technology," she murmured.  
  
Logan flicked a glance in her direction, then returned to the filing cabinet he'd been looking through that appeared to be the firm's accounts. He was just looking up 'Cale' when Max said, "Logan."  
  
He looked up at her, the first vestige of hope beginning to break through when he saw she was holding a tape. "Emma Belding," she said succinctly.  
  
"You're good," he complimented her.  
  
Max was about to make a comment when she suddenly turned towards the door in an attitude of concentration.  
  
"Max..."  
  
"Shhh, I think I hear something. _Stay here_."  
  
Before Logan had a chance to reply, she tossed him the tape, and went out the heavy door, closing it quietly behind her.  
  
Logan looked at the door for a second, frowning slightly, then he looked at the tape in his hand. There didn't seem to be a machine set up to play it immediately, so he popped it on top of the filing cabinet he was working on, and returned to the accounts, hoping there might be a lead there.  
  
Within seconds, his long fingers had found 'Cale, Martin.' Logan gave a long, low whistle when he saw the amount of money Martin had paid Bryan Burke. The man didn't come cheap. Slipping the contents of the file onto his knee he found it listed all aspects of the case that Burke had covered. He looked at it with a gleam in his eyes – maybe they'd be able to piece together a little of the detective's work through this file, thanks to the man's almost fanatical attention to detail. Even his accounts made for fascinating reading.  
  
Logan had been studying it for some minutes when he looked up, wondering why Max hadn't returned. Surely she should be back by now?  
  
Adding the file to the empty manila folder that he'd already slid behind his lower back, he wheeled over to the security door, putting his hand on the doorknob to open it.  
  
With a shock, by the light of the room behind him, he could see that the outer office was beginning to fill with wispy tendrils of smoke.  
  
"_Max_," he said tensely.  
  
Quickly spinning around, he went back and grabbed the flashlight, then pulled out his gun from his pocket and shoved it firmly between his legs.  
  
Sticking the small flashlight in his mouth, he closed the door behind him to keep it free from smoke, just in case they had to go back there, then he set about finding Max.  
  
He couldn't see any glow from the fire but it must have been burning with a reasonable intensity because the amount of smoke out in the hallway was already becoming quite thick.  
  
He thought with grim humour of the training they'd had as children in the event of a fire – 'drop and roll.' Well, the rolling he could do, but if he was going to find Max he'd have to stay in the chair. 'If' he was going to find her, his mind seemed to mock him.  
  
Throwing caution to the wind, he stuck the flashlight between his legs in front of the gun, and started calling her name, quietly at first, then increasingly louder as the seriousness of their predicament hit him.  
  
Rounding a corner he was startled to see the first glow of flames from a direction he took to be somewhere near the front entrance, but he'd been so confused when they'd first come in he really couldn't be sure.  
  
Swallowing the panic that seemed to be rising in his throat, and resisting the urge to cough as the smoke started to choke him, he stopped and called again to Max, this time as loud as he possibly could.  
  
Still receiving no answer, he pushed on again, only to be brought up short by something in front of his wheels. Grabbing the flashlight, he hastily shone it in front - there, in a small heap on the floor, lay Max.  
  
"Max," he called to her, shaking her shoulder, for an instant fearful that ...  
  
He heard a small groan, then, "Logan?"  
  
"You're okay?" he asked her in a controlled voice that showed nothing of his inner turmoil.  
  
Max sat up, then looked around with horror as she realized she was lying in a corridor that was rapidly filling with smoke.  
  
"We gotta get outta here," she stated, taking charge of the situation by instinct. She swayed slightly when she first jumped up, closing her eyes momentarily, to the concern of Logan, but she quickly shrugged it off as the adrenalin coursed through her body.  
  
"I think the fire's towards the entrance," Logan told her between coughs. The smoke was beginning to become dangerously thick.  
  
Max looked about, trying to get her bearings. Logan seemed to be right – but the old place was such a rabbit warren, she wasn't entirely sure how to make it to a back exit.  
  
"You hold the flashlight," she told Logan, having to yell above the increasingly loud and eerie sound of flames crackling and licking up the walls of the old building, as she moved behind him.  
  
She'd just put both hands on his shoulder to push him when he suddenly put his hand up and grabbed one of hers. "_No_," he said, shaking his head, for the moment unable to speak.  
  
Max eyed him with disbelief. Was this a time for male pride?  
  
"The tape," he managed to get out. "I left it in the other room."  
  
Enlightenment dawned on Max's face. "Why didn't you say so?" she snapped.  
  
It took her less than thirty seconds to find her way back to Burke's office. With relief they both found the air that little bit easier to breath once they were in the outer office.  
  
"Max." Logan was looking at the door to the inner office. It was now partly open.  
  
"I closed it," he mouthed to her, picking up his gun.  
  
Without hesitation, Max darted to the door, swiftly putting her head around the edge of the door to check inside. Turning to Logan, she said quietly. "I think it's empty. Let me go first."  
  
This time she stole a slower look. The light was still on, and everything looked as they had left it. Moving with cat-like grace, she crept into the room, checking each row for intruders, other than themselves. Finding no one, she turned and signalled to Logan.  
  
Logan wheeled up to the filing case he'd been working on, and put his hand up to feel for the tape – nothing. He swung around to Max. "There's no tape there now, is there?" he said disgustedly.  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"Dammitt!" Logan fumed.  
  
"Forget about the tape. We've gotta find a way outta here," she reminded him, concerned to see his red, streaming eyes.  
  
Her eyes were streaming as well, but thanks to the blow to the back of her head, she'd been on the floor breathing in the clearest air in the building. Add to that her impressive lung capacity, it was no wonder she was in better shape than he was.  
  
A large muffled whoosh told them that somewhere in the building chemicals were beginning to ignite.  
  
"Come on," she yelled, not happy with the situation, holding the door wide for him. Once chemicals were exploding, who knew what might happen.  
  
Looking about, she noticed a hand towel over by the small sink. Max grabbed it, thoroughly soaking it under the faucet.  
  
"Here, take this and hold it over your mouth, and keep your head down as low as possible."  
  
"What about you?" he yelled back.  
  
"I'll be fine, just do as I say."  
  
Another loud whoosh that was strong enough to break windows made them look at each other with alarm.  
  
This time when she grabbed Logan's shoulders, he didn't resist, but turned the flashlight back on.  
  
With both hands on his broad shoulders, she pushed him out of the office, and hopefully, if she wasn't confused by the smoke, down the corridor that led to a back entrance, all the while Logan holding the flashlight in front of them, more for his benefit than hers, because it tended to reflect off the smoke rather than penetrate it.  
  
It was now decidedly noticeable that the temperature within the building had dramatically increased, but due to the many partitions, they still couldn't actually see any flames.  
  
Logan had begun to cough quite badly, and Max was beginning to find it increasingly difficult to get her breath, when with tremendous relief she saw the old 'exit' sign – bravely shining through the darkness and smoke.  
  
"_Logan_," she yelled to him, as suddenly a tremendous roar far louder than any other they'd heard tore through the building, and this time terrifying tendrils of flame raced along the ceiling as if they were demons let loose from hell.  
  
Half crouching, she raced forward the last few feet, letting go of Logan to rush forward and open the door.  
  
It didn't move.  
  
Pulling at it again with all her might, she felt Logan tugging on her arm. When she turned he was gesturing.  
  
Comprehending immediately, she looked up to where he shone his flashlight – the door had security bolts at the top and bottom, which she hadn't seen in her desperation to get out of there.  
  
In two moves, she had them both drawn back, then she pulled the heavy door back as if it weighed nothing, and in a moment had herself and Logan through the door and into the clear, cold and blissfully wet, dark Seattle night.  
  
TBC


	6. Deception

Thanks so much for all the wonderful feedback. I'm very grateful!  
  
Many thanks to my beta, Alaidh, for all her work.  
  
Chapter 6.  
  
"Okay, let me know if you find anything."  
  
Logan put the phone down, forcing himself not to jump when he looked up to see Max leaning against his office partition.  
  
"How ya doin?" she smiled.  
  
"You've been a long time coming," he commented to her as he snapped the brakes off and headed to the kitchen.  
  
"Normal was bein' his usual bad-ass self," Max told him, only mildly put out by his reception. He was obviously in one of _those_ moods.  
  
Studying his face while she grabbed one of the apples off his counter and tossed it up in the air, she said casually, "So, how'd ya sleep last night with a gut full o' smoke?"  
  
"Fine," Logan replied, not mentioning the fact that when Bling had arrived that morning he'd threatened to take him to the hospital if he hadn't stopped coughing by 10am.  
  
"What about you?" he asked her, serving their meals.  
  
"Yeah. No problems," Max answered easily, not mentioning the fact that after keeping Original Cindy awake until four in the morning, she'd finally got on her bike and headed to the space needle where she could cough to her heart's delight without bothering anyone.  
  
They both nodded at each other, seemingly pleased.  
  
"At least the car was still in one piece when we got back," Max remarked, picking up their meals and heading to the dining table.  
  
They ate for some time in silence, Logan preoccupied with whatever was on his mind, and Max trying to work out what it was that was on his mind.  
  
Eventually, he pushed back his half-eaten plate, telling her abruptly, "I can't get hold of Martin."  
  
"And that's a 'bad' thing?" she asked, before taking another mouthful off her fork.  
  
Logan just looked at her.  
  
"Okay, spill it," she said in a resigned voice.  
  
"The men who took the envelope at the market ..."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"They threatened to kill him," he told her flatly.  
  
"Did you tell him this?" asked Max.  
  
"I told him to lay low somewhere. In a hotel or something."  
  
"Sounds like good advice."  
  
"Only thing is, now I can't get hold of him," he told her, restlessly unlocking his brakes and pushing back from the table. "Been trying all day," he frowned, staring absently out the window.  
  
"If he's scared, Logan, he might have even got out of Seattle."  
  
"I was too casual. I should've taken the threat more seriously. Martin doesn't have any idea of what he's up against."  
  
Max wanted to offer him some word of encouragement, but in truth, she couldn't think of anything that would sound plausible.  
  
The sudden ringing of the phone cut the silence of the apartment. Max watched Logan as he quickly swung around, and headed to his desk to answer it.  
  
"Yeah," he answered abruptly.  
  
She could tell by the note of disappointment in his voice that it wasn't Martin.  
  
"Right."  
  
Whoever it was, was not the harbinger of good news.  
  
"Okay, email it through to me. I've got a way of checking it out."  
  
When he didn't return to the table, Max got up and walked through to his office.  
  
Moving across to his computer, Logan silently accessed the email, then pressed 'print', grimly watching as the image came out of his printer.  
  
She looked at Logan as he picked up the copy. "Now that's enough to put _anyone_ off their food."  
  
"That was Beverly. This may have belonged to a woman a similar age to Emma."  
  
Max came around to stand behind him and looked closely at the image of an arm severed below the elbow. There were only four fingers to be seen, the ring finger had been removed, as well.  
  
Her lips curled in disgust. "Charming."  
  
Logan took a deep breath, then picked up his phone once more. "Charlie? It's Logan Cale. Would you mind if I came around tonight? There's a few things I'd like to check with you," he added, glancing briefly at the photo.  
  
Waiting for some kind of explanation, Max watched him as he grabbed the jacket he'd left on the computer chair. It wasn't until he was leaning forward to make it sit smoothly around his lower back, that he said, "Do you wanna come? I'm taking this to Emma's roommate."  
  
"Sure," Max replied, accepting philosophically that for the moment this was the only information she was going to get.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan was just about to drive out of the parking garage when his cell phone rang.  
  
Talking 'hands free', Max could see the relief on his face as he listened to the voice at the other end say breathlessly, "Logan, just calling to check in with you. I'm okay. Contact you tomorrow."  
  
"_Martin_ ..."  
  
The line had gone dead.  
  
Logan looked at the phone with frustration.  
  
"You've gotta stand in line if you wanna kick his ass," Max warned him territorially.  
  
Logan looked across at her. "I think I'll have to settle for strangulation," he told her wryly.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Charlie, this is my friend Max," Logan introduced her as they entered the apartment.  
  
Max blinked. Logan had told her briefly about Charlie's hand sketches, but he hadn't prepared her for this onslaught to her senses.  
  
He watched her reaction appreciatively.  
  
"Nice," she commented as she looked around.  
  
"Do you have a strong stomach?" Logan asked the red head tentatively.  
  
She gave him an enquiring look with her heavily made-up eyes.  
  
Max took the image of the severed arm out of the large envelope Logan had put it in, and passed it to Charlie.  
  
The girl's face went a little pale as she studied the picture intently.  
  
"I was kinda hoping you'd know if it was Emma's hand or not," Logan asked her seriously.  
  
"This is definitely not Emma's hand," she answered immediately.  
  
"You sure?" asked Max, surprised.  
  
"If there was one thing that Emma was fussy about – it was her nails. She buffed them, polished, and painted them almost every night. Those nails look like they've been bitten, and the fingers are too short. Emma had nice hands – not the artistic type like yours," she added, glancing at Logan's long fingers wrapped around the wheels of his chair, which made Max raise her brows slightly, "but reasonably slender and shapely. She was quite fine-boned."  
  
Charlie studied the picture again, the curiosity of the artist in her overcoming her distaste.  
  
"How come the poor thing's only got four fingers?"  
  
"We're not sure. Could be some ritualistic thing ..." Logan suggested.  
  
"Or it could be to get a ring," Charlie suggested. "It_ is_ the ring finger that's missing."  
  
Logan looked at her closely. "Did Emma wear a ring?" He wouldn't have thought she'd be the type.  
  
"Sure, all the time. A big ugly thing." Charlie frowned a little, trying to remember. "I'm pretty sure she said it was given to her by her grandfather."  
  
"Not by Martin?" asked Max sarcastically.  
  
"Well, I think Martin_ did_ give her a ring – not an engagement ring or anything, but I haven't seen her wear it since they broke up."  
  
Two faces looked at her with open-mouthed shock.  
  
"Since they _broke up_?" Logan asked incredulously.  
  
"Yeah," Charlie replied innocently. Catching sight of both their expressions, she added, "_You didn't know_? I thought you must have, being his cousin an' all."  
  
"No, I didn't know," Logan replied with careful restraint, thinking that strangulation seemed _much_ too kind an option for Martin at this point.  
  
Feeling rather foolish for having been taken in so easily by Martin, he threw Max a look.  
  
"The girl had good sense after all," Max murmured. "When did they break up?"  
  
"Not long before she disappeared," Charlie told him. "I dunno, maybe four or five days before, I guess."  
  
Max rolled her eyes.  
  
"Did she seem upset about the break-up?" Logan asked, wondering at the same time why he was even bothering when his strong inclination was to leave Martin locked in a room with Max for a very long time.  
  
"Not really. She wasn't the emotional type."  
  
"Do you mind if I look through her room?" Max asked her, to Logan adding, "Maybe I'll find something you missed."  
  
Charlie nodded, and Logan waved a hand at her as if to say, "Do what you like."  
  
Charlie looked at Logan. "If you've got a few moments ...?" she said hopefully.  
  
"_Charlie_ ..." Logan began.  
  
"Why don't I show you some of my sketches?" she suggested, not quite willing to give up on him.  
  
When he didn't say 'no' she walked over to a desk in the corner of the room, and pulled out a large folder.  
  
"Some of them are better than others," she admitted modestly as she handed it to him.  
  
Logan looked through the folder with interest. _The girl certainly has a fascination with hands,_ he thought as he looked with interest at her sketches of hands, from the very young to the very old, in all sorts of poses – some holding things, some clasped, some just lying there as if the owners had been asleep. She was actually incredibly talented, he realized as studying each sketch left you with a desire to know 'something' about the 'someone' the hands belonged to. It was a strange feeling – like looking into a person's soul. He decided he was more resolved than ever to say 'no' to having his own hands sketched.  
  
Logan looked up at Charlie as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Did you sketch Emma's hands?"  
  
"Uh huh -just the once though. She was going to model for me again, but ..." she drifted off with an expressive shrug. "These are hers," she pointed out, kneeling down next to him and picking out a pair of hands from the pile on his lap, that were simply displayed spread-eagled.  
  
"No ring?" Logan queried, looking slightly down to her.  
  
"She took it off, said it was too old and ugly. She wanted me to draw her nails – that's why I did it like this, as if she were drying her nail polish.  
  
For the first time Logan saw a look of sadness in Charlie's eyes. "She used to sit in that armchair over there with her hands spread out, blowing on her nails to get them to dry quicker." She sat back on her heels, gazing into the not so long ago past for a moment, then turned her black rimmed orbs to Logan. "I hope you can find her," she said simply.  
  
"Do you mind if I hold on to this one for a while?" Logan asked her thoughtfully.  
  
"I don't mind," she agreed.  
  
Logan had just put Charlie's sketch into the envelope they'd brought with them when his cell phone rang.  
  
Handing Charlie her folder, he grabbed his cell from his pocket, glancing quickly at the number readout as he put it up to his ear.  
  
"Matt."  
  
"Can you talk?" asked Matt with meaning.  
  
"Hold on," he said tersely, putting the phone between his legs.  
  
In a louder voice to Charlie he said, "I'll take this outside. Seems to be some interference in here."  
  
"Okay," she murmured, not bothering to look up as she put the rest of her sketches away.  
  
Logan headed out the door and down the hallway, past the stairwell and elevators, to the deserted hallway that led to a small windowed alcove.  
  
Looking out the grimy window onto an ugly brick wall, he said, "What is it, Matt?"  
  
He could hear a slight note of hesitation in the policeman's voice. "I've run into some trouble over this missing girl."  
  
"What happened?" asked Logan curtly.  
  
"I was on duty last night, so I spent some time working on it. Then first thing this morning I was called in by my superior who wanted to know what I was up to, and more or less warned me to drop the case_ or else."_  
  
"Sorry Matt," Logan put in quickly, feeling bad. He hadn't wanted to put the detective in trouble.  
  
"That's just the half of it," Matt warned him grimly.  
  
"And?""Half hour ago I was hauled into his office, only to be told I was suspended."  
  
"_What._"  
  
Logan could hear Matt's sigh over the line. "Yeah, they supposedly have some guy who's been crying 'police brutality'; I'm supposed to have slammed him around when I was questioning him over a robbery I was investigating a few nights ago."  
  
"You think this is related in some way?"  
  
"Well, the whole thing seems to be a bit of a coincidence. Add to that the anonymous warning I got over the phone this morning. You know, 'drop it or else,' – it all seems to fit."  
  
"Yeah. I've had one of those warnings myself," Logan told him dryly, "so did the guy I'm helping with on this case."  
  
Matt spoke carefully. "Logan, you know I'll do whatever I can, but maybe you should consider dropping this. Someone's pulling some awfully powerful strings here, and I don't think they'll stop at threats."  
  
"I'll keep it in mind, Matt."  
  
"Okay, I'll call you if I have anything more."  
  
"Matt, be careful. It's not worth losing your job over. Give me the details, and I'll see if I can look into who set the dogs onto you."  
  
"Right, I'll contact you later with what I have."  
  
Hearing a slight noise behind him, Logan spun around quickly, staring with surprise at the sight that met his eyes.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Working quickly and methodically, Max did a thorough check of Emma's bedroom – ruthlessly picking over the contents of every drawer with none of Logan's squeamishness. Leaving no stone unturned, she unpaired all the socks and checked in the toes for anything hidden, pulled any moveable items of furniture out and checked the backs, even pulled out every drawer and checked the underside in case anything had been taped there.  
  
She found nothing.  
  
Standing in the middle of the room, her eyes did another quick scan, then gleamed suddenly. She was right – there was _one_ thing missing.  
  
"Where's Logan?" she asked Charlie, as she walked back into the living room.  
  
Charlie looked around vaguely. "Oh, that's right. He had a phone call. Said he'd take it outside."  
  
Max gave her a quick, "Thanks," then headed out into the hallway, where she could see Logan at the opposite end, facing away from her, apparently on the phone.  
  
Figuring he'd wanted some privacy, she was about to head back inside to ask Charlie a few more questions, when a small movement from the darkened stairwell caught her eye.  
  
Creeping along cautiously, she was able to hear clearly what Logan was saying, and it would appear that the man in the stairway was particularly interested also.  
  
He was standing on the top stair, but with his head poking around the corner to listen to Logan, he was unaware of Max's cat-like approach. She now stood, flattened against the wall in the dimly lit hallway, only feet away from him.  
  
Almost ready to make her move, she waited instead as the words of Logan's conversation drifted clearly to her down the hallway, and she felt a flicker of anger flaring inside her.  
  
Threats to Martin he'd mentioned – _nothing_ about any to himself.  
  
With the sudden movement of the man in the stairwell, her anger towards Logan was temporarily forgotten as she watched him stealthily make his way towards the alcove.  
  
That was her signal for action.  
  
The man was enormous – far too tall for her to simply snake an arm around his throat. Instead, something in the action of a gymnast, she ran at him using her remarkable speed, then at the last flipped into the air in a somersault, kicking out with both legs as soon as they were lined up with the man's back, then landed beautifully balanced on both feet.  
  
The force of her kick made the man grunt with pain as he hit the worn carpet with a bone-jarring crunch.  
  
Before he had a chance to roll over, Max was on him, hauling him up with both hands, and smacking him against the wall, where he looked at her dazedly.  
  
Her eyes met Logan's as he wheeled up to her, a look of confusion on his face.  
  
"Caught this guy listening in on your conversation," she told him briefly.  
  
"I was ... just waiting to talk to you, Logan," gasped the other feebly.  
  
"Max," said Logan carefully, "This is Seth, a friend of Emma's."  
  
"That's right," Seth agreed heartily.  
  
"Oh," said Max, not fully convinced, but she let go of her hold around his neck, anyway, adding,   
  
"So, what's with the whole 'eavesdropping' dealio?"  
  
"Just wanted to talk," the young man repeated, an owlish expression on his face.  
  
"What were you wanting to talk to me about, Seth?" Logan asked the young man calmly, hoping that Max's show of strength hadn't scared him too badly.  
  
"I was just wonderin' if you'd seen Emma."  
  
Logan shook his head. "Sorry Seth. I haven't."  
  
Seth's face fell, for the moment looking as if he were about to cry.  
  
Max looked at Logan questioningly, wondering who this 'Seth' was.  
  
"Maybe she's just gone outta town for a few days," Logan suggested in a placating tone.  
  
"No," he replied miserably, "She would've told me if she had. I think something bad has happened to her."  
  
Max looked down at Logan. He shrugged his shoulders with a helpless look.  
  
Looking Seth in the eye and feeling a little uncomfortable now that she'd been so rough on him, Max told him, "We'll let you know if we find her, okay?"  
  
"Thank you," he told her gratefully, holding out one huge hand to both her and Logan as if that sealed the deal.  
  
Max turned to Logan. "You ready to go?"  
  
"Sure."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once in the car, Max told him of her discovery.  
  
"You know Emma's nail kit?" she asked pointedly.  
  
"No-o-o," he told her cautiously.  
  
"It wasn't there," she stated triumphantly.  
  
"And?"  
  
Max explained it to him patiently. "If Original Cindy was going away, she'd take her nail kit with her, because she likes her nails to look _reeely_ nice."  
  
"Like Emma does," Logan acknowledged, thinking by contrast how Valerie had visited a manicurist once a week.  
  
"She must have left in a hurry, because all her other toiletries were there – or she simply planned to buy new ones, but her nail kit was nowhere to be seen."  
  
Logan looked at her a little sceptically. "I'm not sure if that proves that Emma planned to disappear."  
  
"Damned good chance that it does," she contradicted him. "So, where to now?"  
  
"I've got a sketch of Emma's hands. I thought I'd drop it into Beverly at the morgue. It may come in handy if any more severed arms turn up," he added dryly.  
  
He drove on for a while in silence before saying, "I had a call from Matt Sung."  
  
Max didn't comment. She wondered just how much he was going to tell her.  
  
Logan should have been aware of the sudden chill in the air as he told her everything involving Matt Sung, but nothing of the threats in regard to himself.  
  
"So now Martin's screwed up Matt Sung, as well," was her only comment.  
  
Logan looked across at her oddly as he pulled up outside the morgue. "To be fair, it wasn't Martin who roped Matt in on this deal," he reminded her.  
  
"Whatever," she shrugged in a disinterested manner. "So, you want me to run this in for you?"  
  
"No. I need to talk to Beverly about a few things," said Logan, reaching behind for his chair. "I won't be long."  
  
Max assumed by this that she wasn't invited to accompany him inside. "That would be private, 'General to aide' talk, I guess."  
  
Logan looked at her suspiciously before sliding across to his chair – not sure if she was annoyed or if this was her idea of humour.  
  
"It might look suspicious if a whole lot of people turned up at the morgue this time of night," he explained just in case.  
  
"Well, for one thing, we're not _dead_, are we?" Max elaborated with bite.  
  
"I guess," he agreed slowly, wondering where he was going wrong in all this. Everything had seemed so uncomplicated just a few moments ago.  
  
As Max said nothing more, he said, "Okay, I'll see you in few minutes."  
  
_"Fine_."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They made the trip back to Logan's apartment in stony silence, with Max refusing to offer an explanation as to why she was annoyed with him, and Logan refusing to enquire why.  
  
She hadn't come back up to the apartment – simply got on her bike with a curt 'goodbye' and headed home.  
  
Logan was just about to get into bed when his phone rang. _If this is Martin..._ he thought vindictively.  
  
It turned out to be Matt Sung on the other end of the line.  
  
"We need to meet," Matt stated abruptly.  
  
Logan's eyes narrowed as he noted the way Matt avoided using his name.  
  
"When?" he asked sharply.  
  
"Site 'C', dawn. Bring a friend."  
  
"Right," was the only acknowledgement Logan had a chance to give, before the detective hung up.  
  
Matt had used their code for the meeting place, and had spoken quickly to deflect a possible trace. _What the hell's going on?  
_  
Logan glanced at his bedside clock – it was unlikely Bling would be awake at this hour. Max was definitely awake, _but _...  
  
Logan put the phone down, and with a grunt of annoyance slid across from his wheelchair to the bed.  
  
_Bring a friend_.

The words echoed in his mind as he took his glasses off, placing them on the bedside table, then pulled each leg up onto his bed.  
  
He pulled the blankets up then eased himself back onto the pillows, closing his eyes with relief.  
  
_Bring a friend._

This time the words appeared as if written with thick, white chalk against the blackness of his closed eyelids.  
  
His eyes sprung open and he stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then muttering something about_ ungodly_ _hours_ and _panic merchants_, he reached out an arm and picked up his phone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had to be raining, thought Logan dismally, turning his leather coat collar up in an effort to stop the rain that managed to pass through the shelter of the overhanging branches, from dripping down his neck  
  
It was well and truly dawn, and there was still no sign of Matt.  
  
"How long you gonna wait for him?" asked Bling, looking neither perturbed by the early hour nor the drizzling rain.

_How did the man always look so damned calm and like he'd just stepped out of a shower_? Logan wondered irritably, feeling anything but calm himself, and finding the inactivity of waiting tedious.  
  
"There he is," said Bling, motioning with his arm to a figure coming towards them.  
  
Logan looked up with relief as he followed Bling's outstretched arm. The figure coming towards them through the trees was definitely Matt Sung.  
  
Logan put his hands to his wheels with the intention of following the fine gravel path they were on to meet the detective, but Bling put a restraining hand on his shoulder and said, "Better to wait here in the cover of the trees."  
  
Logan nodded, then accepted with a small smile the Kleenex Bling held out to him, and proceeded to dry his glasses. Thankfully, the rain had unexpectedly all but stopped.  
  
Bling kept a wary eye on the surrounding area of the park as Matt approached them.  
  
Logan was concerned with Matt's appearance as he finally reached them – the usually well-groomed detective looked weary with blood-shot eyes and an unshaven face.  
  
"Matt?"  
  
Matt smiled tiredly at the look of concern on Logan's face. "I know, I look terrible," he admitted.  
  
Logan smiled widely at that. "Well, maybe not 'terrible'." Fingering his own stubble he said, "I kinda like it."  
  
Matt looked around. "I'm glad you brought Bling. I was worried you'd be stubborn and come alone. I'm being followed, and I'm pretty sure my phone is being tapped."  
  
Logan nodded seriously. "What've you got for me?"  
  
"_A name_," said Matt succinctly.  
  
The noise of the first shot that rang out was incredibly loud against the stillness of the early morning.  
  
TBC


	7. Bring a friend

Thank you so much for all the positive feedback. It certainly makes my day!  
  
Many thanks as always to Alaidh, for the beta.  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Max looked ahead at the beckoning lights of Seattle through the gloom of the misty, wet dawn.  
  
How many dawns had she spent like this, she wondered to herself, since she'd made Seattle her home - heading home with hair wet, skin cold, but still buoyant from the exhilaration of an early morning ride.  
  
There'd been a time when it was almost nightly, as long as she could avoid the curfew and get through the sector checkpoints. But that time seemed like a long time ago now – before her life had ... _a purpose?_  
  
Max shook her head from side to side with a slightly bewildered expression. She'd never meant for her life to have a purpose. She'd just meant to keep her head down, keep below the radar, and find Zack and the others.  
  
It had all seemed so cut and dried until she'd met Logan Cale.  
  
_Logan_.

She remembered abruptly that she'd added him to her list of 'asses to be kicked.' 'Then again,' she thought with a smile,' he does have a very nice ass.'  
  
Somehow, after a pre-dawn exhilarating ride on her motorbike, Logan's usual methods of only telling her ten percent of the story in regard to himself didn't seem nearly as infuriating as they had the night before.  
  
It was kind of hard, she had to admit, to be mad at Logan for something she would probably have done herself. It wasn't as if he'd changed in anyway since she'd known him – worrying about his own safety had never stopped him doing what had to be done. She felt a flicker of guilt as those same words came back to her – she'd used them as a gauntlet, ever one to have the last word, when he wouldn't condone her desire to meet with whomever had put her barcode in the paper. She wondered if they had stung him at the time? To her shame she had wanted them to.  
  
It was well past dawn now – she'd have to be getting home to get ready for work or Normal would have _her _ ass.  
  
Slowing down to stop at the approaching checkpoint, she shivered suddenly.

_Must be really cold,_ she thought, a little surprised.  
  
--------------------------------------------- ----------------------------  
  
Logan knew he was far too slow in reacting as the startling sound of another gunshot cracked in the air.  
  
Bling, who'd been standing in front of Logan and Matt, spun around as soon as he'd heard the first shot, but the second bullet had already been let loose.  
  
Without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed Logan's right hand, wrenching it free from the wheel that he'd been gripping instinctively with white knuckled force as he looked around wildly for some sign of the shooter, and with his considerable strength, dragged Logan from his chair, and onto the ground.  
  
Logan had the fleeting sensation of the ground rising up to meet him before he hit the gravel path, only his upper body signalling to him that it didn't approve of the roughhouse treatment, then his face hit one of the boulders at the side of the path; for the briefest of moments he felt his hold on consciousness start to slip away, but in the next instant he was aware of the gritty sensation of dirt in his mouth and rather than becoming brighter, his world seemed to grow black and he found he had trouble breathing, and through all this, the sound of the gunfire continued. Three, four, five shots – then nothing.  
  
Silence.  
  
Logan waited, unconsciously holding his breath.  
  
At last, he started to breathe again, and slowly tried putting his head up, but something was preventing him from moving.  
  
"Stay still," hissed a voice.  
  
He knew that voice. It sounded a little less calm than usual, but not much.  
  
After the initial shock, an awareness of what had happened quickly came back to Logan. He realized the reason it seemed to be so dark and it felt like his chest was being pressed into the ground was simply that Bling was lying on top of him.  
  
Bling, in bodyguard mode, cautiously lifted his head, his gun held steadily in his hand, thankful for the protection of the trees that surrounded them, giving any shooter a difficult shot.  
  
The only sound to be heard now was the chattering of the birds high in the treetops, voicing their disapproval at having the serenity of the early morning so rudely disturbed.  
  
He looked across, meeting the eye of Matt Sung, who also lay prone on the grass a few feet away.  
  
"Logan okay?" were the detective's first words, making sure to keep his head down as his eyes anxiously scoured the surrounding area for a sign of their attacker.  
  
"I'd be a whole lot better if Bling'd get off my head," was the muffled reply that made the detective smile quickly, despite the seriousness of their situation.  
  
"Can you see him?" Bling asked, shifting his position, but staying close to Logan, his eyes sweeping the trees in front of them as Matt's did.  
  
"How many are there?" Logan asked quietly, propping himself up a little on his elbows and cautiously looking around.  
  
The sudden deadly ping of another shot landing uncomfortably close made them all duck their heads again instinctively, Bling, at the same time putting his hand on the back of Logan's head, forcing him to lie flat once more.

Matt raised his gun and fired a few shots in the direction he thought the firing had come from, but he knew it was a futile gesture. He had no idea which tree the shooter could be hiding behind.  
  
He looked at Bling worriedly.  
  
"I need to draw his fire to give you a chance to get Logan outta here."  
  
"Matt. You can't do that," Logan stated categorically, using the boulder that had almost knocked him out for protection.  
  
"Logan, it's _me_ they're after."  
  
"You can't be sure of that, Matt," Logan argued hotly, inwardly cursing the fact that both Matt and Bling had been put in an even more dangerous position because of his inability to walk.  
  
Matt looked across at Bling seriously, ignoring Logan's protests. "I'm almost one hundred percent sure that there's only one shooter and he's firing from behind those trees on the top of that rise," he said in his usual calm manner.  
  
Both Logan and Bling looked in the direction he'd indicated.  
  
"_Matt _..." tried Logan again.  
  
"I'm gonna head in that direction, keeping parallel to the shooter, but stay in the shelter of the trees. Give me a few moments, then get the hell out of here."  
  
Bling looked unhappy with the idea, but nodded his head in agreement.  
  
Logan reached across and grabbed at Bling's arm, saying, "No," only to dive for cover again as another bullet whistled uncomfortably close.  
  
Matt edged forward a little so that he could see Logan's face. "Logan, I'm a cop. This sort of thing is what I'm trained to do – and anyway," he added, "I'm sure Eyes Only doesn't expect you to take another bullet for 'the cause'. Seems only fair that someone else has a chance to be a hero. Besides, I'm a smaller target than either of you," he finished lightly.  
  
Logan frowned, failing to see the humour behind the Asian detective's words.  
  
Before Logan had a chance to say another word, Matt jumped up and cautiously ran to the closest tree, then on to the next one, all the while heading away from them in an attempt to draw the attention of whoever was firing at them, and hopefully pinpoint the shooter's position and get off a lucky shot.  
  
As soon as he was far enough away, Bling rolled over and retrieved Logan's wheelchair, placing it within his grasp.  
  
About to pull himself into it, Logan stopped as he heard gunfire – four shots, and then the early morning quiet descended once more.  
  
"Any sign of Matt?" Logan asked Bling worriedly, looking up at Bling who now pressed himself against the trunk of one of the trees, carefully inching his head around it to stare in the direction they'd both seen Matt go.  
  
When Bling shook his head, Logan said, "I don't like it," grimacing slightly at the sense of foreboding that swept over him as there was still no sign of Matt's return, and the shooting seemed to have stopped.  
  
"You'll have to go and search for him ... I'll be all right," he insisted exasperatedly, seeing Bling's expression.  
  
Bling would have waited until he'd hauled himself into his chair, but Logan snapped, "Find Matt."  
  
Torn between staying and going, Bling took the path he'd seen the detective take only minutes ago, although it now seemed like hours. He'd only made it to the top of the first rise, still standing behind the protection of a tree, when he stopped suddenly.  
  
With his gun at the ready, aware of his heart thumping unpleasantly hard in his chest, he swept the area with an intensity born of a very rational fear and the necessity for speed.  
  
Sweeping the area once more, Bling then steeled himself to leave the cover of the tree.  
  
Feeling horribly exposed, he ran forward to the crumpled figure, now lying face down in the wet grass.  
  
Bling saw the blood on the grass before he'd even turned the detective over.  
  
Standing, Bling raced to the top of the rise, not surprised to see Logan heading determinedly towards him.  
  
"Call 911," his voice carried clearly to Logan. "He's been hit."  
  
----------------------------------------------------------- ---------------  
  
"I did a good job on you," Bling muttered, as he applied the antiseptic cream to Logan's knees.  
  
"Better than a bullet," Logan came back at him. "Been there, done that."  
  
Stripped to his boxers, Logan sat on the workout table, legs dangling, as Bling worked on his badly grazed knees that had taken the brunt of his fall.  
  
"We'll have to keep an eye on these," he warned Logan.  
  
Logan grunted irritably, "Spare me the whole 'you gotta look after yourself' speech."  
  
"Well, you can blame_ me _this time," smiled Bling. "That's something new."  
  
"Actually I should be _thanking _you," admitted Logan wryly, turning his head as he heard the sound of his apartment door opening. Despite his determination not to, he could feel his face reddening.  
  
Max had seen him in boxers before when he'd worked with Vertes– but his legs had been working more or less then, and at the time he would have let her see him naked if it meant being able to walk. They certainly weren't the white and dangling useless things that hung in front of him now that he felt so oddly ashamed of.  
  
"Hey kids," she smiled, coming in. "Got your message. Something up?" she added, suddenly aware that something wasn't right.  
  
"Max," Bling smiled at her briefly but seriously.  
  
"I'll massage that shoulder in a minute," he told Logan as he moved away to put the various ointments back in their place.  
  
Once Bling had stepped away, her eyes went immediately to his legs. Despite his tenseness a moment ago, Logan found his unease dissolve as Max herself showed no sign of finding the situation awkward, but, quite the opposite, walked up to him and stared at the ugly red grazes on his knees quite openly.  
  
Her eyes flew to his face and now they opened even wider as she saw the bruise on his cheek that started at the top of his cheekbone where he'd hit the boulder.  
  
"Logan, what happened?"  
  
"Matt Sung was shot this morning," he told her quietly.  
  
"How bad?"  
  
"Right shoulder and a deep graze to the head," Logan replied, as he spoke remembering his trip back to the apartment with Bling:  
  
It had been hard having to leave Matt in the hands of the paramedics and pretend that they'd just come across his body while out for their early morning exercise.  
  
Logan had made sure that they were taking him to Metro Medical rather than any of the other poorly equipped hospitals, and had called Sam Carr, ensuring that his friend had the best care his money could provide in the badly over-worked, under funded Seattle medical system.  
  
Logan kept his face expressionless as he answered the questions of the investigating police who had arrived on the scene, but inside his stomach was churning. The effect of shock he supposed numbly as he saw Bling watching him.

_Bling._

The man was cool and competent as ever, impressing the police, who thanked him gratefully for his, unknown to them, 'doctored' detailed report.  
  
Once they'd reached the car, Bling had taken one look at Logan's face and wordlessly opened the passenger door for him, loading his wheelchair into the back once he'd transferred to the car.  
  
The roads were congested now with the morning rush-hour traffic, made even worse by the many hold-ups as people had to wait in the slow moving lines at the sector check points. It was the worst time of day to travel in post- pulse Seattle.  
  
Logan stared moodily out the window, his mind a tangled, thorny mess of dark thoughts.  
  
"Sam Carr will take good care of him," Bling told him, darting a look across at the morose figure beside him.  
  
"He shouldn't even be in the damned hospital."  
  
Logan spoke in a voice so low and with such suppressed emotion that it came out as a deep-throated, husky whisper.  
  
Stopping the car to join the line at the sector checkpoint, Bling debated whether to speak or not. He knew from past experience that Logan was invariably reluctant to even admit that he was struggling, let alone talk openly about it.  
  
"Logan, Matt wouldn't want you to feel guilty because he's in the hospital," Bling remarked, unerringly reading Logan's mind.  
  
Logan swallowed hard, but said nothing, his eyes staring bleakly out the front windshield.  
  
"That's the very reason a man like Matt becomes a policeman – because he has a desire to protect people, and he protected 'you' because you're his _friend."_  
  
When Logan didn't reply he added, "Didn't you do as much for him when Bronck had you both? Would you have wanted Matt to feel guilty if that had blown up in your face and you'd wound up dead?"  
  
"No," said Logan immediately, "but that was different."  
  
"No it wasn't," Bling contradicted him forcefully. "You were willing to give yourself up to save a friend."  
  
"It's not the same."  
  
Bling played his last card carefully. He knew all the facts, but he didn't want Logan's still sometimes fragile hold on the issues that confronted him, to crumble.  
  
"Would you have wanted anyone to feel guilty because you wound up in a wheelchair:_ Lauren_, because you were protecting her daughter?"  
  
Then with a more purposeful tone, he added, "_Max _... because she didn't agree to play bodyguard?"  
  
"You know I wouldn't," Logan snapped quickly, but with the same husky intensity as before.  
  
"Neither would Matt. He's just like you – and he'd want you to feel grateful. It's an emotion that's a lot easier on the body than misplaced guilt."  
  
Bringing his eyes back to Max's concerned face, Logan told her what had transpired that morning, an undercurrent of anger running through his words.  
  
"We had a meet at the park this morning." Shaking his head with frustration he added, "He must've been followed."  
  
"Does he know why or who did it?" Max asked, concerned that Matt had been injured and at the same time alarmed to find that Logan had been in such danger. _Just how close a call had it been?  
_  
Logan made a face. "Don't know. He's unconscious."  
  
Still puzzled by the turn of events, Max motioned to his legs again. "But _what _...?"  
  
"Bling hauled my ass outta the chair when the shots started flying. I'm gonna have to start paying him danger rates," he smiled with an attempt at humour.  
  
"Do you think this is all tied up to Martin and his missing debutante?" Max asked, keeping her face expressionless at the picture his words conjured in her mind and mentally thanking the quick-thinking Bling.  
  
Logan shrugged resignedly. "I dunno. Matt seemed to think so, but I just don't know. Until we can talk to Matt and find out what the information was that he was going to give me, well, I just can't be sure – of anything ... or _anyone_," he added with meaning.  
  
"Anyway, I'm glad to see that you're okay," Max told him with quiet honesty.  
  
"I sure hope _Matt_ will be," countered Logan, looking deeply into her eyes in search of the comfort and understanding he knew he would find there.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------- -------------  
  
Logan spent the early part of the afternoon reading through Bryan Burke's detailed bookkeeping methods, but in the end, gave up with frustration. When it came to his accounts, the detective had used abbreviations to limit the pen work, so instead of naming a street, he'd simply put _H/S_ instead of _Harris Street._  
  
Without Martin to fill in the missing letters, it was like trying to do a monochrome jigsaw puzzle.  
  
Dispiritedly, Logan put the documents back into the manila folder, his eyes lighting on the empty folder that had once held Burke's actual documents of the case.  
  
Dammit, how had things got so ugly? he frowned, thinking of Matt Sung lying unconscious in a hospital bed. The difference between life and death could be uncomfortably close, he thought grimly.  
  
"You want something to eat ... _drink_?" called Bling from the kitchen.  
  
Logan scratched the back of his head, frowning indecisively as he tried to make up his mind.  
  
Giving up on such a complex question, he carefully removed his glasses, finding it annoying that they sat where the bruising on his face began It was remarkable they hadn't broken.  
  
"I think that's what they call a 'kaleidoscope of colour,'" motioned Bling, coming through to get a definitive answer. "Sore?"  
  
"Just annoying," Logan replied. "_And_ it's annoying that I can't get a hold of Martin. I've left messages for him all over the place. I can't get anywhere on Burke's account details without him."  
  
"Any word from the hospital?"  
  
"Still unconscious," Logan frowned.  
  
"Well, it's the body's way of dealing with things," Bling said encouragingly. "It's not necessarily a bad thing."  
  
Logan nodded absently.  
  
"So, you want coffee?" tried Bling again.  
  
With a decisive unlocking of his brakes, Logan said, "Why not," only to turn his head as the ringing of the doorbell sounded through the apartment.  
  
"I'll get it," said Logan, putting out a hand to stop Bling who was already about to head to the door.  
  
The bell rang a second time causing Logan to let loose a grunt of irritation - anyone ringing his doorbell should have enough sense to know that sometimes it might take him a while to answer. A sudden thought made him pause - _unless it was someone who didn't know him_. Considering the events of the morning, _well ..._  
  
A similar thought must have been running through Bling's mind, because he came out from Logan's study to stand tensely in the hallway.  
  
Logan wheeled forward and opened the door.  
  
"Logan," the voice said in its ever-present ironical tone. "Well, are you going to invite me in?"  
  
"Uncle Jonas," Logan managed to get out, looking at the one person he least wanted to see at that particular moment.  
  
His uncle stood in the doorway, obviously expecting an invitation to come inside, so with as much grace as he could muster, Logan rolled back a little to let his uncle enter the apartment.  
  
Aware of his uncle's careful scrutiny of his face, he swung around quickly, heading down the hallway and into the living room, throwing a grimace at Bling as he went by, then swinging around and saying, "Uncle, you remember my therapist, Bling."  
  
"Yes, I believe we've met before," Jonas said smoothly, taking hold of Bling's proffered hand.  
  
"I'll head out and grab those few things you need," Bling said to Logan, adding, "Nice to meet you again, Mr. Cale," before he turned to go.  
  
Feeling a little as though his last lifeline had disappeared, Logan looked over at his uncle, who was now standing by the window surveying the view.  
  
"Can I get you a drink, Uncle Jonas?" Logan asked politely, assuming with some exasperation that this was more than likely about Martin.  
  
Jonas turned around in a measured fashion.  
  
Ignoring the question he asked instead, "Have you taken to wearing 'contacts' Logan?" – making it sound as if Logan had committed some social solecism.  
  
"No. I just took my glasses off for a minute," Logan answered, feeling a little on edge as he always did when forced to confront Jonas – another thing he'd have to thank Martin for when he saw him.  
  
"I'll have that drink now, Logan."  
  
Nodding, Logan spun around and headed out to the kitchen with a sense of déjà vu; _was it only two days_ _ago that he'd done the same thing for Martin?_ he wondered as he precariously balanced two glasses and a large decanter on his lap.  
  
Jonas had occupied the few minutes by wandering around the living area, checking out the view, artwork, and anything else that took his interest.  
  
Feeling mildly irritated with his uncle's usual implied attitude that nothing was quite as Jonas himself would have liked it, Logan threw him a dark look from under his lashes and dumped the contents of his lap on the low glass-topped table near the sofa, then wheeled back to his desk to get his glasses.  
  
Carefully putting them back on, he watched as Jonas poured himself a drink.  
  
The sight of his uncle in correct focus was even more objectionable than the blurred one had been.  
  
"That's a nasty bruise you've got there," Jonas commented dispassionately as he wheeled back into the room.  
  
Logan's mind disobligingly went blank for the moment.  
  
"I fell," he eventually got out quickly, then seeing his Uncle's enquiring look, he stammered out, "In the shower."  
  
It was the most plausible thing he could think of at short notice – one of Bling's more insistent warnings to him.  
  
"Your aunt has been worried about you," Jonas continued in his dictatorial manner, looking at Logan over the top of his glass. "She's concerned about you living alone."  
  
"You can tell Aunt Margo that I'm doing fine."  
  
"You don't have to snap, Junior. She's just thinking of your welfare," Jonas continued smoothly, with an ironic nod of his head towards the bruise on his nephew's cheek as if to say that he wasn't convinced.  
  
Forcing himself to stay calm, and wishing he'd never come up with the whole 'shower' excuse, Logan replied with a quiet insistence, "I'm sure she is, but I _am_ doing fine. Besides, Bling's here part of the time, most days."  
  
"Well, I'm sure it can't be easy for you," Jonas replied inconsequentially, taking a large gulp of his drink.  
  
Standing in need of a little fortifying himself, Logan poured a drink and took a generous mouthful, gratefully feeling it burn as it slipped down his throat.  
  
"Have you seen Martin lately?" Jonas suddenly asked.  
  
Logan had been expecting it, and he'd already decided that he wasn't going to lie on Martin's behalf.  
  
"As a matter of fact, I have. He visited me here the other night."  
  
Logan could see that Jonas was surprised by his honesty.  
  
"I had no idea that you two were so close."  
  
"We're not," Logan stated bluntly.  
  
"You left messages on his answering machine," Jonas reminded him, closely watching for his reaction.  
  
"That's right," agreed Logan evenly, refusing to elaborate further.  
  
"Your aunt is worried about him. She hasn't been able to contact him since the night before last."  
  
Mentally rolling his eyes at Martin's stupidity in not allaying suspicion, Logan shrugged, "Well, he's a big boy. I'm sure whichever beauty he's with will be taking good care of him."  
  
"Do I detect a hint of _green-eyed envy?"_ Jonas smiled suggestively, always ready to be amused at another's expense and reminding Logan very strongly of his recent encounters with Martin  
  
"Hardly," snapped Logan, revolted by the idea of one of Martin's fly-by- night love affairs.  
  
"Logan," a familiar voice called out from the hallway, appearing suddenly from the kitchen end of the apartment  
  
Jonas looked down at Logan with one of his slightly sarcastic smiles. Logan knew this meant his uncle was likely to make some outrageously rude comment and mask it as a joke. He was already cringing inwardly for Max's sake, and his uncle's words only served to confirm his expectations. "Well, I can see why you don't need to be jealous of _Martin_."  
  
"The difference between them is _so_ obvious isn't it!" Max agreed as if pleased they'd both reached the same conclusion and being purposefully obtuse at Martin's expense.  
  
"You've met Max before, Jonas. She's a 'friend'," Logan emphasized quickly.  
  
"Well, I hope for Logan's sake you're a particularly _close_ friend," commented Jonas, smiling ingratiatingly in Max's direction.  
  
Max smiled winningly.  
  
For once she was not quick to refute the oft-mentioned observation, not if it meant another thinly veiled barb in Logan's direction.  
  
Instead, she thought it safer to smile enigmatically and say nothing, which took an enormous amount of self-control on her part, wondering at the same time how Logan could possibly be the product of a family such as this.  
  
The thought sobered her for a moment – she was a product of Manticore, and she had spent her life trying to escape its tentacles in her life, just as Logan tried to escape the more distasteful aspects of his upbringing.  
  
Jonas meanwhile, was talking to Logan about Bennett and Marianne, pointing out in his own indomitable way how successful the pair were destined to be.  
  
Logan, for his part, had long ago decided he'd had enough of the whole conversation and was debating the most tactful way to send his uncle packing, when he caught his uncle looking at him with a slightly different expression.  
  
For once Logan thought his uncle looked a little indecisive on how to continue.

Logan leaned back, idly running his hand along the top of the wheel of his chair, awaiting his next words with interest.  
  
"Well Logan, I'll pass on to your aunt how well you're doing," Jonas said, putting his glass down as if in readiness to leave.  
  
Logan nodded.  
  
Suddenly Jonas turned to him, all sign of facetiousness gone, speaking with a kind of grim cautiousness as if he didn't know how much Logan knew, and he didn't inadvertently want to reveal more.  
  
"This business with Martin - I don't know what the boy has told you, but it's something better left in the hands of wiser heads than yours ... junior." The last word was left to hang in the air, not as an expression of affection but instead clearly designed to keep his nephew in his place.  
  
It stung a little as it always did, not the word, but the intonation that Jonas invariably attached to it, but this time Logan was more interested in what it was Jonas wasn't saying.  
  
Not wanting to let on how little he, in fact, knew of anything to do with the disappearance of Emma Belding, or how Martin was involved in it, Logan simply assumed an expression of indifference and told Jonas evenly, "Well I'm sure if Martin was ever in some kind of trouble you'd be there for him."  
  
Jonas looked down at him, suspicious of some kind of double meaning, but then, apparently happy with the results of his thinly veiled warning, Jonas remarked jovially, "Keep in touch," and with a, "Don't bother to see me out," he left, leaving Max and Logan to stare at each other bemusedly.  
  
"Well, that went well," Max smiled, as she tried to judge his reaction.  
  
"Mmmm," Logan replied, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.  
  
"Watcha thinking?"  
  
"I'm wondering more and more what it is that Martin hasn't told us, or why Jonas is so concerned about me butting in on this.'  
  
Max watched him as he wheeled across to his computer – back to his 'safety zone', she thought ironically.  
  
"You know, you shouldn't let him get to you," she said, following him, her thoughts going back to their discussion in the car on the way to Bennett's wedding. She had always wondered just what it was he'd said or done that supposedly had the whole family talking about him for 'the next twenty years'. Some of Logan's wounds were remarkably deep.  
  
Taking off his glasses again, he shrugged a little, but his eyes had an intent, focused expression as they fell on the empty manila folder that had once held Bryan Burke's investigative notes on Emma Belding.  
  
"You think he used disappearing ink?" Max joked, looking down at him as she leaned against his desk.  
  
Logan suddenly looked up at her. "_Maybe_," he said cryptically.  
  
Max raised an eyebrow.  
  
Leaning across, Logan grabbed a pencil and proceeded to very lightly cover the folder with a faint layer of pencil. "I think I saw this in some show when I was a kid," he murmured intently.  
  
Max watched fascinated as a criss-cross of letters appeared on the cover of the folder where someone had rested a sheet of paper on it to write.  
  
Logan squinted at it in a myopic manner until Max handed him his glasses, but even then he began to look disheartened.  
  
"Well, it was a good _theory."_  
  
"Let me have a look," said Max, holding it up to the light. She began to shake her head as well, when suddenly she said, "Logan, I think I can read an address."  
  
TBC


	8. Ties

A very big thankyou to all those kind enough to review!

Thanks as always to Alaidh for the beta.

Chapter 8  
  
"Can you read it?" Logan asked Max intently as she held the folder up to the light.  
  
"It looks like one-seven-two ...either Branson, Bronson, I can't quite tell."  
  
Swivelling back to his computer, Logan's fingers flew over the keys while Max continued to examine the folder.  
  
"I've got a Branson, Brunton, or even Hansen ... no, that one's not long enough. That leaves Branson or Brunton. What d'you think?" he asked, looking up at her.  
  
"I think the first one, Branson, but I can't be sure," Max said, shaking her head a little.  
  
Logan frowned at the computer screen. "Looks like Branson's in the warehouse district, down by the wharf. Brunton is a residential address."  
  
Max nodded. "I know Branson, done a few deliveries there. Kinda ugly, not much around. What about the other one?"  
  
Logan called up another screen and peered at it closely. "Definitely suburbia."  
  
"Two cars, one dog, 2.5 kids Max rapped out smartly.  
  
"Well," remarked Logan a touch absently, "maybe pre-pulse ... but now ..." His voice wandered off as he checked out the two addresses, then he added mildly, "of course," and here he swung around to face her, "we're assuming it _was_ an actual Seattle address."  
  
Max's face fell a little. "Damn. I hadn't thought of that."  
  
"Still, no reason why we can't check them out tonight ... just in case," Logan added suggestively.  
  
"Sure," Max smiled back at him, "just so long as you have dinner waiting here for me when I get back," she agreed playfully.  
  
Logan eyes narrowed a little as she finished, an uneasy, ambivalent expression on his face as if he had something to say but wasn't sure how to put it into words.  
  
Max looked at him suspiciously. "Cat got your tongue?" she asked, almost provocatively.  
  
"You know, this isn't really Eyes Only stuff," he tried, glancing up at her quickly as he let the brakes off with a snap and wheeled through to the living room.  
  
"So?" Max shrugged, following him, her hips swaying with an easy stride, a hint of skin showing at the top of her jeans beneath the red top she wore under her denim jacket.  
  
Logan hesitated, not sure what to say. It wasn't that he didn't have confidence in her ability, but he'd been reminded today that bullets don't make exceptions, even for stunningly beautiful, transgenic cat burglars.  
  
"Whoever I'm up against is playing for keeps, Max," he finally said with a serious tone.  
  
"What, the 'general' is thinking of going it alone?" she asked with a brittle smile, quick to pick up on the 'I' and finding, to her surprise, that it hurt a little.  
  
Logan got as far as the windows and was forced to stop.  
  
"Not exactly," he answered.  
  
Max followed him, but something in his manner made her distance herself from him, stopping on the other side of the couch.  
  
_This is it_, thought Max, her stomach inexplicably doing strange things, _he's got someone else to_ _do his legwork. He wants to let me go_.  
  
Logan turned his chair a little and stole a quick glance at her – not seeing the frozen look on her face, but rather her body lying face down in the grass as Matt Sung had been, her red top now darkened with blood as her life seeped from her body, her face deathly white.  
  
"Logan?"  
  
Bringing his eyes back into focus, he looked up at her again. "I make a good wheel man," he offered.  
  
Max looked at him, her thoughts confused for an instant, then she felt a flood of something warm and tingly rush through her all at the same time – _He's _worried _about me_ – _not replacing me._  
  
For an instant Logan saw a look on her face he couldn't quite read – relief, pleasure ...something – but in the next instant it was as if the shutters had come down.  
  
"_No way, Logan_."  
  
"Max. It's just too dangerous. I have no idea what you might run into out there."  
  
"All the more reason for me to do this alone," she snapped.  
  
"If I hadn't been there at Burke's, you might not have made it outta there," he reminded her insistently.  
  
"If I'd done what I was _meant_ to do, I would have been in and out, probably with the tape in my hand, in five minutes," she retorted, coming around the couch to stand in front of him, one hand on her hip in an attitude of resistance to anything he might suggest.  
  
"Max, _no way_ am I letting you get hurt over this mess with Martin," Logan said flatly.  
  
"Yeah? Well you being involved in the 'gunfight at the O.K Corral' doesn't do a heck of a lot for me either," Max retorted.  
  
They looked at each other, equally determined, equally immoveable from their stance.  
  
"I'm not backing down on this, Logan," she warned him, dark eyes flashing with the light of battle.  
  
Logan looked up at her. _Damn, she was beautiful._  
  
"Okay," he agreed finally, putting up his hands in a show of defeat. "You win. I'll just forget about the whole thing."  
  
Max looked at him suspiciously. "Just like that?"  
  
"Sure. You're right," he said lightly, making her step back a step as he pushed himself forward.  
  
Max was really suspicious now. Logan never gave in – he was almost as stubborn as she was. Unless ...  
  
"Logan Cale," she called to him with a knowing assurance as he headed out to the kitchen, "you have no intention of giving up on this and maybe finding the men who shot Matt Sung."  
  
Logan looked up at her with feigned surprise.  
  
"As soon as I turn my back, you'll head out there _yourself_," she accused him.  
  
"I never said that," he defended himself.  
  
"Why do I _so_ not believe you?"  
  
Max watched him as he got out a saucepan and then disappeared behind the fridge door, rummaging in it for something for dinner. It appeared to be rather aimless rummaging, she thought sourly. The man had no intention of cooking a meal.  
  
For a moment she looked heavenward for inspiration.  
  
Inspiration not forthcoming, she put both hands on her hips this time. "All right, _you win_," she spat out ungraciously. "Maybe I do need a wheel man.'  
  
Logan had the sense to wipe the smile off his face before he faced her.  
  
"We'll eat something when we get back," Logan suggested, still gauging her reaction.

Max leant against the counter, not taking her eyes off him, and this time even Logan could see that she was annoyed.  
  
"That's my phone," he told her somewhat needlessly, and with a certain amount of relief, as the ring sounded through his apartment and he headed back to his desk.  
  
Max fumed inwardly, wondering how she'd let him outmanoeuvre her so badly, reflecting that Manticore should have had a class on how to outsmart Logan Cale, when she heard him saying, "Martin, we need to talk – now!"  
  
Quickly walking through to where Logan was talking, she listened sharply to the conversation.  
  
"Martin, either you meet with me ASAP, or I dump this whole mess into Jonas's lap."  
  
"Not here," Max mouthed silently when Logan looked her way.  
  
Martin was obviously arguing the point, but Logan finally snapped, "Okay. Forget it. I'm finished with this."  
  
Apparently, Logan's tone of voice conveyed to his cousin that he'd definitely had enough, because the next instance, Logan was saying coldly, "Where?"  
  
Max quickly leant across and passed him his notebook and pen.  
  
"Oceanview Motel," Logan repeated as he wrote it down, then the beachside suburb where it was to be found. "And Martin, at least have the decency to call your folks to tell them you're fine, so that I don't have Jonas breathing down my neck again."  
  
If it had been a pre-pulse handset, Logan would have taken considerable pleasure in slamming it down on the base, instead he had to be content with frowning at the piece in his hand before placing it on its holder.  
  
"What's he been doing?" asked Max, anticipating the worst.  
  
"Partying," Logan replied dryly, spinning around to face her.  
  
"You gotta be kidding me!"  
  
"Either that or it's a particularly loud hotel he's staying in. I guess that's possible ..." he suggested sardonically, wheeling back through to the kitchen.  
  
Bling's entrance made them both look up.  
  
"Hey people," he smiled congenially at them, adding to Logan, "How'd the family reunion go?"  
  
Logan shook his head disgustedly. "Don't ask. Thought you must've got lost," he said, his eyes going curiously to the bags Bling held.  
  
"I came across a fresh delivery of vegetables at the market," Bling showed him, holding one of the bags low enough for Logan to look inside.  
  
"Wow, there's a few things there I haven't seen for a while," Logan commented, peering into the bag, then taking it and passing it to Max to look in.  
  
"And I went by Metro Medical."  
  
This comment was met by silence, Logan's eyes darting to Bling's face as Max's eyes went from the bag of vegetables to Logan. She held her breath a little for his sake.  
  
"Matt's gonna be okay," Bling had pleasure in telling him. "I managed to talk to Sam Carr."  
  
"_And_?" Logan asked a little tensely.  
  
"Shoulder wound will be fine. Sam says he was luckier than you – the bullet went clean through, missed any bone."  
  
"His head?" Logan asked, not fully convinced yet.  
  
"Serious ...but," he added quickly at Logan's expression, "he should come out of it fine. He was conscious for a few moments when I saw him."  
  
"You saw him?" Logan asked in surprise.  
  
"Sam let me in for just a minute or two. Apparently Matt was real worried about you. Sam wanted me to set him straight – with the head wound he's been pretty confused about what happened this morning."  
  
"But he's gonna be okay," Logan repeated, looking relieved and only aware now of the huge weight that had sat on his shoulders because it was suddenly gone.  
  
Max looked at Logan and smiled, guessing a little of what was going through his mind. He looked up and answered it with one of his own quirky grins, letting go a long breath.  
  
"Sam gave me this," Bling said casually, holding out a tube of ointment to Logan. "Said it's the latest stuff."  
  
"You and Sam have a nice talk?" Logan commented, fingering the tube, his voice tight, the smile that had been there only seconds ago completely vanished.  
  
"Sam was asking about you." Bling explained, unperturbed, taking the bag of vegetables from Max. "Guess with all Matt's ranting about you he was worried."  
  
"It's not a personal insult, Logan," Max murmured, thinking Logan could be so damned pissy sometimes.  
  
"I got a whole bathroom cabinet full o' this stuff, and every other damn pill you can possibly think of," Logan turned on her heatedly. "I don't need more."  
  
"So," Max returned, surprised for the moment that he'd even mention the fact to her, but refusing to be intimidated, "Most people in this country have a bathroom cabinet full o' pills. Who cares?"  
  
"I'm gonna get my jacket," Logan snapped, releasing his brakes and spinning around.  
  
Max watched his retreating back, eyes darting heavenward once more. No wonder Manticore didn't have a class on Logan Cale, she mused with frustration, it would take more years than she wanted to spend to learn how to understand the man  
  
Bling caught her look and grinned as he opened the fridge to put the vegetables away.  
  
Max suddenly looked at him with a suspicious smile. "Did you go there to see Matt or to see Sam?"  
  
"For Logan," he answered enigmatically.  
  
Grabbing an apple, Max mentioned casually to him, "Word is it got pretty hot out there this morning. Logan said you saved his ass."  
  
Bling stopped what he was doing and looked at her for the moment, an unspoken understanding passing between them.  
  
It was the closest she would come to thanking him for protecting the one person in the world who, despite her constant denials, meant more to her than anyone.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------- -------------------  
  
"You're kinda quiet," Max murmured as Logan steered the Aztek through the early evening traffic.  
  
Logan continued to look out the windshield without speaking for a few moments, then he admitted, "I've been thinking about what Uncle Jonas had to say – or rather, what he didn't say."  
  
"And I'm meant to 'understand' this?"  
  
"I got the feeling that Jonas knew more than he was letting on."  
  
"About...?"  
  
"Wish I knew! Martin would be my guess."  
  
He paused for a moment, rolling his shoulder muscles a little as they stopped at an intersection.  
  
"Sorry about blowing up before," he added quietly. Max thought he sounded a little embarrassed. "I hate pills ... all that stuff," he finished vaguely, "but it kinda goes with the territory."  
  
Max nodded. She didn't have any real understanding of his aversion. Genetically engineered killing machines rarely took pills of any kind – except tryptophan.  
  
The thought pulled her up short with a suddenness she didn't enjoy, reflecting on how she hated to be dependent on the pills. Did they make her less of a person? She had to admit, they made her feel ... humbled ... that for all her capabilities, she was reliant on stupid little pills to survive – a constant reminder to her of imperfection.  
  
She looked across at Logan, intense as ever, straining against the hand that fate had dealt him, regardless of his 'the universe is right on schedule'.  
  
She wondered now if he ever really believed that.  
  
-------------------------------------------- ------------  
  
"You'd think Martin would have mentioned that the damned place was built on the side of a mountain," Logan muttered with annoyance as they pulled up outside the hotel.  
  
"No," contradicted Max smartly, "I wouldn't have thought that for even a second."  
  
The Oceanview Hotel looked as though it had once been a fashionable establishment at least 100 years earlier from its art deco modernistic lines of the 1920's.  
  
Max looked at it, impressed. It sat atop the hill – its sleek but graceful lines still eye-catching, but it looked as though all attempts to keep it in pristine condition had come to a complete halt when the Pulse hit. Now the once grand old lady was quietly deteriorating – fast becoming decrepit in her old age.  
  
Max looked at the many steps through the now tangled mess that had once been a fragrant rose garden that climbed to the hotel itself.  
  
"You want me to swing up and get him?"  
  
"Guess so," Logan agreed, then adding with insight as he watched her put his chair in the back, "Be gentle on him."  
  
"Aren't I always?"  
  
---------------------------------------------------- ---------------  
  
Max knocked just once on the door, before she called out "Martin. Open up."  
  
Max looked down the carpeted hallway with interest. The interior of the hotel was in considerably better condition than the exterior, and she guessed that it wouldn't be cheap accommodation.  
  
The turning of the doorknob made her turn around.  
  
"Max!" said Martin surprised when he saw her standing outside his door. "This is certainly an unlooked for pleasure."  
  
Max looked at him, scowling, then recoiled slightly as she could detect the smell of alcohol on his breath.  
  
"You plastered?" she asked disgustedly.  
  
"Hah!" he snorted. "You've met my father – he'd tell you that a Cale is never drunk, merely inebriated."  
  
"Yeah, right. Well you can just haul your inebriated ass down to the car to talk to Logan."  
  
Martin looked around in surprise. "He's not here?"  
  
Max just stopped herself from whacking him on the head as she pushed open the door to his room and let herself in. "Seeing as how getting a wheelchair up here would be like climbing Mt Rainier, Logan figured he'd wait in the car for you."  
  
"Do I detect a slight note of antagonism?"  
  
"Not a slight note," she told him sweetly, "the 'only' note you detect is antagonism."  
  
Martin frowned at her. "I don't know what I've done to deserve this – I kind of hoped we'd get on well together," he added a little smoothly.  
  
Looking around and finding a jacket on a chair, Max picked it up and shoved it in his arm. "Let me fill you in on a few facts then Martin, and maybe that handsome head of yours may start to work like its got a_ brain_. Firstly you set Logan up at the market, and stand by and watch while those goons took him into the alley, then he visits the P.I you hired and he nearly ends up barbecued when the guy's place gets torched, and finally, a friend of his gets shot, probably because he's looking into your girlfriend's disappearance. Oops, only I forgot – she's not your girlfriend is she Martin, cause she had the good sense to break up from you a few days before she disappeared," finished Max, her voice having risen with intensity on each fresh allegation.  
  
Martin had gone increasingly paler by the minute with each fresh revelation, until finally, he had to sit down.  
  
"Is his friend all right?" Martin had the good grace to stammer.  
  
Max opened the curtains to see if she could see Logan waiting below in the driveway. It was a very long way down.  
  
"Other than a few holes in him, he'll be fine," Max told him coldly, adding in a matter of fact voice, "Just as well for you that it isn't Logan lying in the hospital, or I'd be hanging your ass out this window by your toes."  
  
Martin looked at her totally confused.  
  
He found her beauty almost overwhelming, but the more he saw of her, the more bewildering he found her. How could someone so beautiful be so threatening? There was something about her that made him shiver.  
  
Trust Logan to hook up with a spitfire like this – what was wrong with a conventional girl he thought irritably.  
  
Watching Martin apparently fall completely into a heap with these revelations, Max could only shake her head and hope that Logan could do something with him.  
  
"Come on," she told him coldly, grabbing him none too gently by the arm.  
  
------------------------------------------------------- --------------  
  
The cold night air of early evening seemed to revive Martin a little, and he shook off her arm with annoyance and straightened his jacket and hair as soon as they were outside.  
  
"See what you mean by the steps," he muttered as they made their way down the winding flagged path. "I'm pretty sure there's a back entrance from the top."  
  
Max shrugged. "Probably." It had suited her purpose to have a few words with Martin alone.  
  
Hearing footsteps, Logan ducked his head a little to see their faces as they came down the last few steps.  
  
Max held the front passenger door open for Martin with a stony expression, then slid into the back seat, positioning herself in the middle so that she could see both their faces.  
  
Logan reached up and flicked on the interior light, ignoring Martin's gasp as he saw the increasingly spectacular bruise on Logan's face.  
  
"I guess you didn't fall in the shower?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"No," Logan replied dryly, "that's just the story I told your father."  
  
Martin's eyes narrowed a little at that. _Must be a Cale trait_, thought Max.  
  
"That's right. I had a visit from him, wanting to know why you and I were suddenly so close. I gotta admit, I'm beginning to wonder myself, when so far, all you've done is lie - or tell me half-truths at the very best."  
  
Martin winced a little at the tone. _So he should_, thought Max.  
  
"Like why didn't you tell us you two had broken up?" Max asked him in an angry tone.  
  
"I didn't think Logan would look into it if I told him we'd broken up," he answered, definitely more on the defensive than contrite side.  
  
"Deception, prevarication – always great for forming a lasting relationship," Max sniped, thinking to herself, _Now those are Cale traits I'm familiar with.  
_  
"I wasn't trying to marry Logan," Martin sniped back, unable to resist a dig at her expense. No matter what these two may say to the world, he was sure there was more to their 'friendship' than what met the eye. And if there wasn't, he couldn't for the life of him think why not, because it was certainly obvious to him that Max was crazy about Logan.

Logan's point of view he wasn't so sure about. His cousin had never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve – well not to Martin anyway. Maybe I should ask Bennett, he suddenly thought. If anyone would know anything, it would be him.  
  
"Martin!" Logan was saying to him exasperatedly.  
  
"What?" he asked a little guiltily.  
  
"When did you _really_ last see Emma?"  
  
Logan watched his cousin carefully.  
  
"I did see her that night, like I said," Martin admitted quietly.  
  
"_But_ ...?" Max prompted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
"I was sitting outside in my car ... I was," he added, looking from one to the other when he saw the same expression on both their faces.  
  
Martin turned a little more in his seat so that he could address them both.  
  
"I wanted to make up with her. It was her idea to split."  
  
"Surprise, surprise," Max murmured.  
  
"We made an after hours trip to Bryan Burke's detective agency. The place went up in flames and someone stole a surveillance tape with the name 'Emma Belding' on it while we were there," Logan told him factually.  
  
Not bothering to look around, Logan said, "Max, you got the file for Martin to look at?"  
  
Max handed it silently to Martin, who looked at it in some surprise. "I thought you said the place burned down."  
  
"Thanks for your care and concern; yes, Logan and I did just manage to get out before the roof collapsed," Max mentioned coldly.  
  
Martin looked at both of them in surprise. Neither one seemed particularly concerned about their narrow escape. With a jolt the thought came to Martin that Logan would have been in his wheelchair. It was easy to forget that fact when you saw him sitting in the driver's seat of his car. He looked up to see Logan watching him intently.  
  
"I never asked you to go near that place," he muttered.  
  
"What we want to know is why someone else is looking for Emma as well?"  
  
Martin shrugged. "I don't have a clue."  
  
"I could take him behind those trees over there and maybe help a little to refresh his memory," Max suggested hopefully.  
  
This time Logan did throw her a look.

"Just tryin' to be helpful," she smiled.  
  
"What can you make out from the account, Martin? Do these abbreviations mean anything to you?"  
  
Logan and Max watched as he read through the file with methodical slowness.  
  
"Well?" Max queried when he looked up.  
  
Martin rubbed a hand on his forehead. "I can't make it out. None of this makes any kind of sense to me."  
  
Logan and Max looked at each other disappointedly.  
  
"Martin, there _has_ to be something else you can tell us. I've got a friend with two bullet wounds in him because he was looking into Emma's disappearance - _for me_!" Logan told him, finding Martin's lack of co- operation infuriating.  
  
"Is that how you got that?" Martin asked him, pointing to his bruised face.  
  
"Guess you could say that," Logan agreed.  
  
Martin looked impressed. "Boy, I had no idea life in a wheelchair could be so exciting."  
  
"It's not so exciting when you're on the receiving end of a bullet," Max snapped.  
  
Logan sighed and rubbed at the good side of his face. "We're not getting anywhere with this. Martin, isn't there _anything_ more you can tell us?"  
  
Martin looked at them both. "I've told you everything I know."  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------- --------------  
  
"_Yeah, right_," Max muttered as they drove away, "and I'm Snow White."  
  
"More like Wonder Woman," Logan murmured with a slow smile.  
  
"Whatever," Max responded, refusing to be sidetracked, "the point is we've driven all the way out here and he still gives us the same dealio. _I've told you everything I know_," she mimicked viciously.  
  
"You okay?" she asked him suddenly, catching sight of him wincing a little as he rolled his right shoulder. "And after an hour of crap from one Cale, I'd better not get any of that from you."  
  
Logan closed his mouth suddenly, as if he'd changed his mind mid thought as to what he was going to say. Covering nicely, he said mildly, "I strained my shoulder a little this morning."  
  
"I can drive if you like." Max offered.  
  
"Hey, I'm the 'wheel man'," he said, affronted. "You just can't pick one up anywhere, you know."  
  
"Probably right," she agreed calmly. "I hear the experienced ones are really hard to find."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"This is it, one-seven-two Branson," said Max, peering out the car window.  
  
It was just on dusk, but already this part of town appeared to be pretty much deserted for the day. Looking around, it was hard to tell which buildings were in use and which weren't, as the majority of them had a decidedly seedy look about them.  
  
Branson was hardly a road in the normal sense, but rather a wide thoroughfare, bordering the water.  
  
"I wonder what they pay for sea views," murmured Logan, looking at the rundown building in front of them.  
  
"Well, there doesn't seem to be anyone around. It's as good a time as any to check this out."  
  
Logan looked across at her.  
  
"You wanna tell me how to do my job?" asked Max tartly.  
  
"Just be careful," he told her, a little annoyed with her flippancy. So far nothing in the last few days had turned out uneventful.  
  
"Hey General, you've been demoted to wheelman this op.," she pointed out with a hint of satisfaction. "Just keep the car running," she told him saucily as she got out.  
  
"You could be hours in there," he protested.  
  
"Okay," she shrugged, "start it when I yell."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------- --------------  
  
Max walked around to the side of the building, hoping to find a less obvious way of entry rather than the front door.  
  
It was a timber structure, unpainted and long ago dulled grey with time.  
  
Max's eyes narrowed a little as she saw three parked cars in the narrow alley between this building and the equally shabby building next door.  
  
Walking past a jumble of wooden crates, dumpsters, and other broken down packaging, Max came across a plain door – well it would have been plain if it hadn't been adorned with graffiti.  
  
She was about to put her hand to the door when she suddenly spun around in an attitude of defence, her eyes darting to the pile of trash she'd just walked by. Very slowly, she moved forward and silently put her hand out to pull back one of the wooden crates when a mangy bundle of fur unexpectedly darted out and raced down the other end of the alley.  
  
"You must be one mean cat to survive around here," Max muttered as she went back to the door. Carefully turning the handle, Max was both relieved and worried to find it unlocked, and well oiled, opening noiselessly as she pushed on it.  
  
Hey, she thought brightly, maybe they could solve this whole dealio tonight, and that would put an end to her having to control her increasingly homicidal tendencies towards Martin – in fact she'd begun to think that Logan was right and maybe she'd get more pleasure out of slowly strangling him to death.  
  
Max paused on the threshold, looking around cautiously, finding herself in a large open area. It was surprisingly clean inside, the concrete floor obviously swept recently, various wooden containers stacked in neat piles around the floor. There didn't seem to be anyone in her immediate vicinity, but to be on the safe side she flattened herself against one of the stacks and listened patiently.  
  
Her thoughts wandered to Logan outside (admitting to herself a little guiltily that her thoughts always seemed to be wandering to Logan lately) waiting in the car – which was the reason she hadn't wanted him to come. It was distracting knowing he was out there, and some part of her deep down inside felt an added responsibility to keep him safe.  
  
_What did Zack say? That's right - things about having your judgement clouded, being_ _vulnerable, head in the clouds._ She had to admit there was a certain amount of truth to what he said, but that still didn't make it necessarily a bad thing, did it? She'd tried living his way - for a long time - but somewhere along the line, and even now she still wasn't entirely sure when it had happened, she'd found that for all the trouble and maybe heartache, her life was the richer for being tied to people, friends ... _Logan_.  
  
In a strange way, and she wasn't entirely sure why, it was even nicer to have someone else to worry about instead of your own, bad-ass self, and Logan, with all his causes, gave her plenty to worry about.  
  
Max stood behind the stack of wooden boxes for a good five minutes, listening and waiting with a cool nerve. From somewhere further inside she could vaguely hear voices, probably through some sort of inner wall further inside the warehouse, she thought.  
  
Max debated what to do – they could either leave and come back later when the warehouse was deserted, or hang out and try and discover why Burke would have written this address down in the first place, assuming that Logan's theory was correct and the detective had done what most people do – used the folder he was working from to rest on when writing up his facts.  
  
The sudden sound of voices approaching made her look up suddenly – people were coming in her direction.  
  
Looking about quickly, she spied a wooden staircase that led to a loft above her. It was the matter of a few seconds to slip up there unobserved.  
  
Highly satisfied with her new vantage point, Max watched with interest as a slim, dark haired woman and four men in suits walked through to her line of vision engaged in a deep, heated discussion.  
  
"We don't know anything, I tell you," the woman was frantically insisting.  
  
"Let me put it simply; 'we' don't believe you!" one of the men told her sharply.  
  
Totally unexpectedly, at that point, a large, black SUV crashed through the double doors at the front of the building, and four men charged out.  
  
It was like something from a movie as bullets were suddenly going everywhere with a deafening sound, echoing weirdly in the cavernous room.  
  
Somewhere above the din, Max heard the woman start yelling, "_Genevieve, Monique, run!"_  
  
Max leaned forward, totally unnoticed by the combatants below.  
  
The woman was still screaming the same words, heading towards the side door that Max had used, when one of the men grabbed her and tackled her to the ground.  
  
Max watched, totally confused, not sure whom she should help, if anyone, and who were Genevieve and Monique?  
  
The fight seemed to be resolving itself as the men in the SUV apparently decided enough was enough, and began to try to make their way back to the car, dragging a wounded man with them.  
  
Max could see the man who had spoken to the woman call loudly, it sounded like names, and this time she witnessed another four men run from somewhere at the back of the warehouse and weigh into the fight, which was virtually finished as the last man staggered into the van and it exited backwards, still being fired upon, through the shattered timber doors.  
  
The men below staggered up and one ran off towards the back. The starting of a car engine informed Max of his intentions.  
  
The woman was openly weeping now, apparently pleading with the man. Something in her attitude seemed to cut Max to the core. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard such raw desperation. Making up her mind, she started to head down the stairs, just as the car came into view, and she could see them attempting to shove the distraught woman into the back.  
  
Max was almost to the bottom stair when the side door opened, and she looked up and gasped to see two small figures framed in the light of the doorway.  
  
The woman saw them and started to go completely wild, screaming with a terrifying intensity, "_Girls, run, run."_  
  
"Quick, get them," someone shouted.  
  
It was at this point that Max decided to lend a hand.  
  
TBC


	9. Two new problems

Chapter 9  
  
Logan was restless.  
  
He never liked waiting at the best of times, and the fact that Max was in there and he didn't know what was happening made him all the more tense, but to the casual observer there was little indication of his mood – a slight frown at the most, but the rest seemed to be directed inward. Logan was always an individual more likely to implode rather than explode.  
  
_Max._  
  
If he hadn't been there at Burke's detective agency, who knew what might have happened? The memory of their flight from the fire was beginning to dim, no longer as vivid as it had been that same night as he'd tried to sleep despite the coughing. In the end he'd tried sleeping sitting propped up with pillows, but every time he'd closed his eyes, it was as if he was back in the corridor, hands sweaty on the wheels of his chair, feeling the fear that had gripped him as he looked for Max in the pitch black hallway as it rapidly filled with smoke.  
  
Now, three days later, if he closed his eyes and thought about that night, the overwhelming memory was the warmth of her hands as they'd rested on his shoulders, and the calm strength that flowed through her to him as she'd coolly navigated the rabbit warren of corridors to the blessed relief of the fresh air outside, and the concern in her eyes when she had eventually put both her hands to his face, lifting it so that she could look closely at him to check to her own satisfaction that he was okay, when he was still too overcome to answer her.  
  
Logan pressed his lips together with a mild sense of disgust, adjusting his glasses once more so that they wouldn't rest on his bruised cheekbone. _How desperate is that?_ he berated himself, reflecting on a time when a hand on his shoulder would have gone without notice, or maybe it was just that feeling, touching, even pain became more important to you when half of your body was dead to the sensations.  
  
Logan looked at his watch again, and rolled his eyes, then sighed audibly in the quiet of the car. Only three minutes had elapsed since he'd looked the last time.  
  
Feeling considerably uneasy, he'd watched Max disappear down the alley next to the warehouse.  
  
He had no idea from his vantage point outside the warehouse that there were three cars parked down there – if he had, he would have had even more cause for concern.  
  
Logan looked carefully around the immediate vicinity again, holding onto the steering wheel to brace himself as he twisted as far around as he could, vainly hoping that the warehouse was empty and Max would be able to do her thing undisturbed.  
  
All hope of that vanished as a large, black SUV roared down the road at a fast pace, then to Logan's amazement, it turned at the last moment and headed full-on into the wooden double doors that protected the warehouse from prying eyes only some twenty yards in front of him.  
  
The doors shattered with a huge crash of splintered wood and protesting metal hinges and locks, with a sound so loud in the still night air that Logan cringed instinctively.  
  
He sat frozen for a moment, his mind that little bit slower in processing the picture his eyes had effortlessly captured, frowning at the unexpectedness of events. Then, as if making a conscious effort, he snapped out of his bewilderment with a slight shake of his head, opened his mouth a little as if he were about to speak, then closed it again quickly as he came to a decision. His first action was to start the car and cautiously bring it closer so that he could edge it in front of the shattered doors, trying to peer inside.  
  
He could vaguely make out shadowy figures that appeared to be fighting, but he didn't dare bring the Aztek any closer in case he signalled his presence.  
  
_Dammit - where was Max?  
_  
--------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------  
  
Max turned quickly.  
  
The distraught woman had now been shoved into the car, despite having resisted with all her strength.  
  
The two small figures were still shadowy forms in the doorway – Max could almost feel their uncertainty.  
  
"_Run, kids, run,"_ she screamed at them.  
  
She had no idea what the situation was, but something told her that these men weren't about to throw them a birthday party.  
  
With relief she saw the figures turn and disappear, presumably down the alley, but now her own presence had been signalled to the remaining men – and it appeared that only two had gone with the woman in the car. At least six remained, and now with one accord they all turned and looked at her as she stood only feet away from them on the bottom step of the wooden staircase.  
  
"Hi boys," she smiled with a coy wave before bounding over the handrail, and descending into the very midst of them.  
  
For a moment there was a flurry of hands and arms and feet – mostly Max's – as she connected to the various parts of their body with alarming accuracy, but even she couldn't deal with six men simultaneously, and even as she was kickboxing everyone in sight, two of the men were able to avoid the wildly flying arms and fists, and continue their pursuit of the two small figures.  
  
Max saw them go with dismay, but for the moment had the more pressing task of her own survival on her mind as in the half light she could clearly make out at least one silver blade gleaming ominously.  
  
Denying the owner of the blade even the time to think, one black-booted foot kicked up and out, contacting with the owner's arm, and flinging the knife he had held into the air.  
  
Another man tried to take her on, but once again as he brought his fist close to her she deflected it with scarcely a pause, and her own fist flowed through to slam into his jaw.  
  
He was stunned for a moment, but not enough to be out of the fight.  
  
Suddenly, as if realizing that they'd never overpower her single-handedly, they stood back as if gathering their strength, only to come at her all at once.  
  
Max stood there, hands held out in front of her at the ready. "Bring it on," she snarled at them invitingly.  
  
_Logan, I'll kick your ass if your door isn't locked,_ was her last thought before they attacked.  
  
--------------------------------------- ---------------------  
  
Some minutes had passed now since the SUV crashed through the doors, and there was still no sign of Max.  
  
Logan rubbed a nervous hand over his mouth.  
  
With no formal intention he unbuckled his seatbelt and looked for his chair, pulling a face when he realized it wasn't within reach.  
  
There was nothing he could do but wait – he had forgotten that Max had put his wheelchair in the hatch when Martin had got in the car. Somewhere at the back of his mind he wondered if she'd left it there on purpose. Genetically engineered females weren't in the habit of forgetting things.  
  
"Come on, Max," he murmured intently.  
  
The sound of gunshots now carried clearly to him from inside, making his heart lurch a second time.  
  
Unable to bear just sitting there and doing nothing for a moment longer, Logan released the brake none too gently, then spinning his wheels slightly, he took off past the broken doorway, and swung the car into and down the alleyway he'd seen Max disappear.  
  
Logan didn't see the retreat of the SUV as it roared back out, taking its wounded with them.  
  
Slowing a little in the hope of finding Max, or seeing where she'd gone, Logan suddenly braked really hard as he caught sight of two small figures in the brightness of his headlights, two small faces frozen with a look of terror as they ran up the alleyway, the older hanging tightly to the younger one's hand.  
  
"Kids," muttered Logan in surprise. "What the ...?"  
  
The next moment, two men in suits came rushing from a door Logan could now see half way down the alley. More confused by the minute, it looked to Logan as if they were chasing the two children who were now casting fearful glances behind them as they ran with as much speed as they could muster.  
  
The two small figures were now almost up to Logan's door. Not really knowing why, he put his window down and called to them.  
  
_"Kids!"_  
  
Without looking up, and obviously considering him some new threat, they only looked all the more scared, and continued on by, trying to go even faster.  
  
The two men following were almost up to them now, ignoring the Aztek in their pursuit of the girls. Logan frantically searched his mind for inspiration, concerned to see the men were approaching the car. It wasn't until they were virtually level with his door that an idea came to him with sudden clarity, and without hesitation, he put it into action.  
  
As the first man was almost abreast of his door, Logan flung it open with as much force as he could muster.  
  
The result was quite spectacular as the first man, running full pelt, hit the door with enough force to knock him completely backwards into the path of the man running behind him.  
  
They both fell to the ground, momentarily stunned, the second man being the first to get up. Logan saw him hurriedly say something to the other, and then continue on his way after the two children.  
  
Logan looked nervously towards the doorway – damn, still no sign of Max, and now the man who'd been felled by his trick with the door was beginning to get up – and he looked particularly unhappy about finding himself sprawled on the muddy road.  
  
Logan reached out quickly to close the door once more, but he was too late – the man already had his hand on the handle, and wrenched it open all the way, and with it, Logan's gun.  
  
His first instinct was to put the car into reverse and accelerate as fast as possible, but two things prevented that action. The first thing problem was that he didn't know where the two small figures had gone to, and he had no intention of running down children to save his own skin, and the second problem was that the man who opened the door seemed intent on pulling him bodily from the car. Logan briefly cursed the fact that he'd undone his seatbelt as the man grabbed the arm he'd instinctively put out to shove his attacker off. Logan barely had time to hook his right arm around the steering wheel, before the man started pulling on his arm with the intent, he presumed, of dragging him from the car, and what was going to happen after that he didn't want to even begin to think about.  
  
His right arm and shoulder were beginning to protest, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his attacker changed his tactics, so Logan decided he had to do something – if he was going to be hauled from the car he was going to go down fighting.  
  
Logan quickly let go of the wheel with the intention of trying to break the other man's hold on him. _First mistake_, his mind flashed at him warningly as the other man's momentum immediately began to force him slowly from the car. Logan shifted his hold to the man's neck and braced himself for the inevitable plummet to the ground, when he heard Max yell, "Logan, let go."  
  
Without hesitation, Logan let go of the man, and somehow it was Max in front of him, the other man writhing on the ground in agony.  
  
Taking Logan's weight, Max wrapped her arms about his waist, quickly bringing him back to his point of balance.  
  
For the briefest moment of time, so quick as to be almost imagined, Logan's eyes locked with hers, mere inches apart, then Max was saying in a brusque manner, "You okay?"  
  
As Logan nodded, she yelled, "We gotta find the kids," and before Logan could reply, she had disappeared from his range of vision, presumably after the two children.  
  
Putting the car into reverse, Logan headed back up the alley, exiting just in time to see Max a little further down the road, catching up to the lone figure that was pursuing the children, and throwing herself at him to take him down in a flying tackle. The man twisted quickly on landing, kicking out with his feet and sending Max sprawling to the ground, which really made her mad. In a fluid movement, she jumped up, kicked the man's gun away from his reach, and then reached down to drag him up, only to punch him in the face with a blow that sent him to the ground again.  
  
Logan meanwhile had turned the car and caught sight of the children as they now headed along the road, their pace slowing by the second. It wouldn't have been long before their pursuers had caught them.  
  
Accelerating hard, he roared up, swinging the car carefully in front of them to slow them down a little, then watched anxiously as Max ran forward and scooped both children up, one under either arm, running hard towards the Aztek, very aware of the sound of running feet and shouts closing in on them.  
  
Logan put an arm behind him and managed to open the door just as Max arrived at the car. Pulling it open the rest of the way, she shoved both kids in the car then piled in herself, unable to resist saying to her wheelman, "This is where I yell."  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------- --------  
  
Not needing to be told further, Logan roared down Branson St, then took a series of other turns to hopefully throw any would-be pursuers off their tail.  
  
"We're clear," breathed Max at last, for the first time looking down at the two children huddled in either arm, too scared to cry, not sure whether they had met a saviour or an enemy.  
  
Max caught Logan's eye in the rear-view mirror, then looked down at them again, gently squeezing them in what she hoped would be a gesture to comfort them that neither she nor Logan meant them any harm.  
  
"Hey, it's all right. You're safe now," she assured them gently.  
  
Getting no response, she added, "We won't let anyone hurt you. _Promise."_  
  
At her words, the older child lifted her head and gave Max a penetrating stare, her eyes still wide-eyed with fear.  
  
"Are you Genevieve or Monique?" tried Max, looking down at a girl of about ten.  
  
"Genevieve," a small voice replied hesitantly.  
  
"So this must be Monique," Max smiled, pleased to receive the smallest of smiles in return for a brief moment.  
  
"I'm Max. This is my friend Logan. We want to help you."  
  
When Genevieve didn't reply, she asked, "Was that your mommy back there?"  
  
At the mention of the word 'mommy,' the young girls eyes filled slowly with tears, and the little girl in Max's other arm started to quietly sob, then say with heartbreaking earnestness, "I want my mommy."  
  
Max shot another look at Logan through the mirror, then said, "We'll find your mommy for you, but first we'll take you to Logan's where you'll be safe from those men, okay?"  
  
The older one nodded silently, quickly wiping away one of the tears that had cascaded down her cheek, and gave a small sniff, then put out her hands towards the younger girl, who let go of Max and threw two chubby arms around the neck of her sister, clinging to her tightly.  
  
----------------------------------------------------- ----------  
  
It was already quite late by the time they got back to Logan's apartment, and both girls had fallen asleep during the trip, probably worn out by their earlier drama and lulled to sleep by the warmth and movement of the car.  
  
Once she saw they were both asleep and she'd slipped a seatbelt around them, Max moved into the front passenger seat.  
  
"This did start off as a missing person's case right?" Logan said wryly, nodding wisely as he murmured, "I always _knew_ there was a reason Eyes only didn't do this sorta thing."  
  
"I know," agreed Max, acknowledging his confusion, "but we couldn't just leave them there."  
  
Briefly she filled him in on what she had seen inside the warehouse.  
  
Logan looked horrified. "They shoved the mother into a car ... just who are these guys, Max?" he added in a worried tone. "Did you see anything in there to fill us in?"  
  
Max shook her head and shrugged. "I didn't get a chance to do anything. I'd only been in there a few minutes before the foreign guys came in."  
  
"Foreign, as in not from this ... town?" Logan asked hopefully.  
  
"I mean foreign as in not from this _country_," said Max, putting him straight.  
  
She looked into the back seat to check on the two sleeping girls, then turned back to Logan saying quietly, "I kinda had the idea that they were after the mother."  
  
Logan raised his eyebrows at that.  
  
"What are we gonna do with them, Logan?"  
  
This time Logan shrugged. "Try and find out who they are and what they were doing in that warehouse, I guess."  
  
"Maybe they've got relatives somewhere close by who can fill us in," suggested Max hopefully.  
  
"Sure hope so, 'cause I know zip about kids," he admitted.  
  
"It was horrible, Logan," Max told him quietly. "She was begging them about something ...'_we_ _don't know anything,_' she said."  
  
"We ...perhaps a husband?"  
  
"Don't know ... and then they were going after the kids – and if you could have heard the way she yelled at them to run ... I just had to do something," Max finished, frowning as she remembered the desperation in the woman's voice, a sudden memory of that tone echoing in her own mind as she saw herself calling, "_Logan _..._Logan_," then finding the gun on his desk.  
  
Something flared suddenly in her dark eyes, and she turned her gaze quickly to Logan, now staring thoughtfully out the window as he drove, lost in his own thoughts.  
  
Suddenly aware of her scrutiny, he glanced at her with a slightly enquiring look.  
  
She paused a beat, then smiled, "Just thinking you weren't half-bad as a wheel man."  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------- ------  
  
Logan parked the car in the underground parking garage, and then turned to Max, nodding his head towards the two sleeping children.  
  
"Got any ideas?"  
  
"I can take them up one at a time," she suggested. "Why don't you wait here with ..."  
  
"I'm awake," said a voice quietly from the back.  
  
They both looked around to see Genevieve staring back at them, still looking a little lost, one hand protectively on her little sister's shoulder.  
  
"This is where I live," Logan told her in a friendly manner.  
  
The girl nodded silently.  
  
Max smiled. "We're gonna take you up there and try to help you find your mom."  
  
Genevieve nodded again.  
  
Max threw a look at Logan, and then got out to retrieve his chair from the hatch. Couldn't blame the kid for being wary, she thought, feeling unusually out of her depth. What do you say to a kid who's just seen her mother abducted?  
  
Logan had opened his door, and she placed the chair next to it, then opening up the back door, she turned to the child and said, "If I carry your sister, will you be okay to walk up?"  
  
Once again, Genevieve nodded, but this time Max could see her previous blank expression subtly change to one of surprise and interest as she noticed Logan transferring to his chair, which made Max feel relieved as she'd been seriously worried the child may have been in a form of shock.  
  
Hoping Logan didn't mind, and feeling a bit like she was stating the obvious, she said quietly to the girl, "Logan can't walk."  
  
"Oh," the child replied politely.  
  
"You all set?" Logan called to them, closing his door.  
  
Max reached in and picked up the still sleeping Monique, and Genevieve hopped across to get out the same door, closing it carefully after herself, then keeping very close to Max, she followed her into the elevator.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------- --------------  
  
Logan swiped his security card, and then Max pressed the PH button.  
  
"What does that button mean?" asked Genevieve.  
  
"Penthouse," Logan explained briefly, her words telling him a little about her social standing, although he had to admit, not many kids would have been in penthouses nowadays.  
  
"Oh," she replied, the same tone as before, that said, 'this is interesting, but...'  
  
Logan gave her what he hoped was an encouraging grin. You couldn't blame the kid for being cautious, he thought, wondering at the same time if the wheelchair bothered her.  
  
Once they'd reached the top, Logan led the way out of the elevator, and opened up the door to his apartment.  
  
He sensed, rather than saw, the look of awe – the quiet, 'wow' gave her impressions away a bit, he noted amusedly, catching Max's eye as she came in with the younger child, before she walked through to the living room and put her down on the couch.  
  
"Well, who do we have here?"  
  
Logan looked up, surprised to see Bling.  
  
"I thought you'd gone home."  
  
"Had a few things to do ...thought I'd wait," the other replied easily.  
  
Logan nodded, then introduced Genevieve to Bling, avoiding explanations of therapist and trainer and, even more complicated, bodyguard, by introducing him as a friend.  
  
Bling held out his hand very seriously. "My pleasure."  
  
Genevieve seemed to think this was all right, because she smiled suddenly – albeit a small one.  
  
"Come on through here, Genevieve, and we'll see if we can get you something to eat," Logan smiled at her, pushing himself through to the kitchen.  
  
"I made some soup while you were gone," Bling told Logan as he followed him through. "Had a feeling you and Max wouldn't be back till late."  
  
Logan raised his brows in surprise, not unthankful. "Sounds good."  
  
"What sounds good?" Max asked, coming through at that point.  
  
"Some of Bling's soup," Logan told her.  
  
Max smiled down at Genevieve. "You like soup?"  
  
She saw the girl hesitate.  
  
"Be truthful," she warned her playfully.  
  
"If it doesn't have too many vegetables in it," was the final verdict, delivered a bit sheepishly.  
  
"I don't blame you," Max responded, glad to see her finally starting to relax.  
  
She was a pretty child – pale skin that was lightly freckled here and there, medium blue eyes, and long fair hair that fell in waves not unlike Max's, but much longer – almost half-way down her back.  
  
Her sister was very similar, only hair and eyes both a little darker, and Monique's still toddler soft hair was shorter, and cut in a bob.  
  
Both were dressed well, if not expensively, in jeans, sweaters and jackets to shield them from the still cold, autumn air. Children who had someone who cared for them, Max thought with a pang of envy.  
  
"How old are you, Genevieve?" Max tried gently.  
  
The child answered quite willingly. "I'm ten. Monique has just turned three."  
  
Logan was helping Bling get some bowls out, resisting the urge to ply the child with 101 questions himself. It wasn't easy. They'd brought the two of them here on a whim; they had no idea if these girls were involved in anything about Emma Belding. To tell the truth, Logan would have been remarkably surprised if they did.  
  
On the other hand, the thought of the two of them at the mercy of men who would appear to be quite ruthless in everything they did, well...Logan shrugged his shoulders mentally.  
  
A sudden cry from the living room had Genevieve and Max hurrying through to where Monique was waking up, her face still crumpled with sleep, her legs and body stiff as she showed her disapproval with anyone who dared come near her.  
  
Max looked at Genevieve.  
  
"She gets like this when she wakes up, sometimes," was the knowledgeable reply.  
  
The wailing was increasing in volume, and Max didn't want to pick her up and alarm her all the more that she wasn't her mommy.  
  
Max looked towards Logan, quickly getting the message that there was little help from that quarter. She could see Bling and Logan both looking towards her from the kitchen, as if to say, "Can't you do something about that?"  
  
Max looked back at the now increasingly upset figure on the couch, then looked about for something that Logan might have that she could use as a distraction.  
  
"You could try chocolate," Genevieve suggested suddenly, after her own attempts to soothe her sister had failed.  
  
Max's face lit up.  
  
"Logan, you got any chocolate?"  
  
Logan looked at her suspiciously. "What d'you want chocolate for?"  
  
"Do you have any?" Max spelt out for him, ignoring his question.  
  
Logan threw his head back a little as he thought about it. "I don't think so ..." he went to say, then with a sudden thought he added, "wait a minute," and went to one of the cupboards in his kitchen.  
  
Max followed him, keen to see what ideas he could come up with, but instead watched in surprise as he brought out not one or two, but about half a dozen large, and very expensive boxes of chocolates.  
  
"Logan this is Swiss chocolate," she told him, very impressed as she grabbed one of the boxes he'd placed on the counter. "You get this on the black market? I never tipped you as a closet sweet tooth," she added, surveying him as if in a new light.  
  
"I'm not," Logan replied evenly. "That's why they're here."  
  
Max raised her eyebrows sceptically at that, then realization dawned on her as she saw one of the boxes was still gift wrapped.  
  
"Let's see if it really is a cure for all that ails you," Logan added cynically.  
  
Max winced a little at his tone – she was sure that had not been the intent behind the gifts that people had given him while he was in the hospital. _At least they'd tried to be there for him in_ _some way,_ she thought, disliking the unpleasant sensation of guilt that she suddenly felt.  
  
Putting on a sunny face she walked back to the children.  
  
"Here," she said to Genevieve, who appeared to be quite the little mother.  
  
"Want some chocolate?" Genevieve asked her sister cajolingly.  
  
It was remarkable how quickly the tears stopped, and one small hand reached out palm up for one of the delectable items to be placed in it.  
  
Monique inspected it carefully, then looked up with a pleased face and said with the tiniest baby lisp, "It's a shell," before popping it without further ado into her mouth, and reaching out for more.  
  
"Told you," said Genevieve proudly, passing her another and eyeing the chocolates with interest herself.  
  
Max nodded her assent, and the older girl's face broke into the first real smile they'd seen as she ate one too.  
  
"Well it's certainly a cure for crying toddlers," Max couldn't help murmuring to Logan who'd followed her in as she walked past him to grab a facecloth to wipe ten fingers now covered in melted chocolate.  
  
_How could one small child get so little of the chocolate in her mouth and so much of it on every other part of her anatomy and clothes?_ Logan couldn't help wondering, hoping that Max would be back soon.  
  
_Well, at least the couch is brown,_ he thought resignedly.  
  
TBC 


	10. Meteorological Prophesies

Thanks once more for all the encouraging reviews – they always make my day!  
  
Special thanks as always to Alaidh for all her hard work as beta!  
  
Story 3, chapter 10  
  
"You both have French names. Are either of your parents French?" Logan asked the older child as he served her some of Bling's soup.  
  
"No," she answered quickly.  
  
'Both American?" he pressed gently.  
  
"Sure," the child replied. Almost a little nervously, thought Max, watching from the window side of the dining table.  
  
Monique was seated next to her on some large, thick books that Max had found - ignoring Logan's under-his-breath comment that they were important - and then topped with one of the sofa cushions to bring her nearer the height of the table. She looked around curiously and wriggled a little on her seat, her small face serious as she surveyed everyone at the table.  
  
Bling brought some bread rolls and butter over to the table, but with no place set for him it was obvious he was not about to sit down and eat with them.  
  
"Are you going to eat, Mr. Bling?" Genevieve asked thoughtfully.  
  
Grinning broadly, he replied, "I've already done that ...and just 'Bling' will do fine."  
  
"Do you know where your daddy is?" Logan tried again, getting a warning look from Max not to press too hard, as he passed her a bowl of soup.  
  
Genevieve looked a little unsettled at that question. "Daddy had to go away," she said quietly, blue eyes concentrating suddenly on her soup.  
  
"When was that?"  
  
When the child hesitated, Logan said to her in a firm voice, "Genevieve, we want to help you. We want to find out who it was who took your mom, but you need to help us and tell us anything you know. Had you ever seen those men before?"  
  
The child shook her head again, some locks of fair hair falling forward, her eyes still intent on her soup.  
  
Max looked at Logan with a hint of exasperation, not entirely happy with his methods.  
  
"Logan, they're not _informants_," she murmured meaningfully to him over the spoon of soup she was blowing on to cool for Monique.  
  
In a slightly milder manner, he suggested, "Why don't you tell me your surname, and where you live; maybe I can contact some of your relatives." Finishing with an ironic glance towards Max as if to say, _was that better_?  
  
"Our name is Green. Mommy's name is Sharon and my daddy is Brad. We don't have any relatives."  
  
"No grandmas, grandpas, aunties or whatever?" Max asked, surprised.  
  
"I never met any," Genevieve shrugged, apparently not that interested in her lack of relatives.  
  
"Lucky you," Logan couldn't help saying. "So where do you live?"  
  
"We only came to Seattle two nights ago. We stayed in a motel," she said, wrinkling her nose at the memory of it. "It wasn't nice like_ here_," she added, as her eyes wandered around Logan's sophisticated apartment.  
  
"Do you know the name of it, or where it was?" Max asked hopefully.  
  
Genevieve screwed up her face a little in an effort to remember. "I just remember I didn't like it. It was dirty, and old."  
  
"Well, there are plenty of those to choose from," Logan grimaced.  
  
"Near the beach, downtown ...suburbs?" prompted Max.  
  
"I like the beach," Monique piped up at that point, then losing her concentration, she managed to spill most of the soup, that she'd so carefully put on her spoon, onto the table, saying, "Oops," quite happily.  
  
"I'm not sure," Genevieve shrugged. "It was just _real _ugly."  
  
Slightly distracted by the mess on his table that was fast turning into a pool in front of Monique, Logan tried, "Where were you living before you came here?"  
  
"New York," Genevieve answered promptly this time, and gave them the address.  
  
"Well, at least it's a start," Logan replied, putting the last of his bread roll in his mouth before unlocking his brakes and heading over to his computer, thankful that he had something to go on at last.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------- ------------  
  
Two hours later, Logan knew exactly what he'd known two hours earlier – virtually nothing.  
  
He stared at his computer, absently rubbing the tips of his fingers together, then unexpectedly his face lit up with a small, quick grin.  
  
His apartment was unusually noisy.  
  
Max had both girls set up at the dining table. She'd turned the TV above the wine rack around so that Genevieve was able to watch it, and Monique had a pile of paper and pens and was happily drawing countless 'peoples', all the while chattering away to Max, who was doing her best to understand everything that was said to her, but was fast learning that sometimes it was simpler and saved a lot of confusion to simply smile and say, "_Really!"_  
  
Unlocking his brakes, Logan spun around and headed out to them.  
  
Max was trying to discourage Monique from climbing on the table to get to another chocolate, pointing out to her with patience that she'd already eaten almost an entire box of the pretty shell chocolates, and she'd probably had enough.  
  
The child look at her suddenly with big serious eyes, then her face crumpled, eyes scrunched closed, her mouth opened wide, and she let out a huge cry.  
  
Logan looked at her in alarm. "Max, _what happened?"_  
  
"She's not that keen on the word 'no'," Max remarked calmly, appreciating the performance.  
  
Genevieve turned around at that point and said in her best 'big sister' fashion, "Monique, you can't eat _all _Logan's chocolates."  
  
"I don't mind," Logan said at once as he coasted up to the table, stopping at the corner closest to Max.  
  
Max noticed he didn't set his brakes – maybe he was getting ready for a quick getaway if the child couldn't be calmed, she grinned to herself.  
  
Monique was momentarily distracted by his presence on the scene, but after a few seconds, she returned to her wailing with renewed vigour.  
  
"She's had an awful lot already, Logan," Max warned him, having to raise her voice a little to get over the din.  
  
Logan was watching Monique as if she were in danger of exploding. "Just a few more won't hurt, will they?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"They're your chocolates," Max murmured as she gave in, admitting to herself that the sudden quiet was more than welcome.  
  
"Genevieve," Logan said as soon as Monique was quiet, "are you sure you got that address right?"  
  
The child looked across at him. "Sure."  
  
"You couldn't find _anything _on them?" Max asked him uneasily.  
  
"Not a thing. It's as if they never existed," he told her, leaning back and running his hands distractedly over the rubber wheels of his chair.  
  
"That's kinda weird."  
  
"Like everything else around here lately," he agreed a little tiredly, looking up to see Genevieve watching him. He gave her a half-smile.  
  
Max turned to the girls. "I just need to talk to Logan for a minute. You'll be okay?"  
  
Genevieve assented for both of them, calling to Monique to watch the funny show to distract her from Max's absence.  
  
Max looked about, then led the way through to the guestroom, where she'd have the chance of talking without the children overhearing.  
  
Without preamble on reaching the room, she said to him, "Do you think she's telling us the truth? If not ..._why would she lie_?"  
  
Logan let out a breath, a puzzled expression on his face, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The events of the last few days were beginning to catch up with him, he thought wryly.  
  
"Max, we don't know anything about these kids," he pointed out to her gently.  
  
Max looked out the window for a moment, then turned and came around to sit on the bed in front of him, their eyes level.  
  
"All I know for the moment is that we're the only ones who can care for them, and somewhere out there is a mother who's probably in agony wondering what has happened to her children," she told him quietly.  
  
"I know ...but..."  
  
"_Logan_, we can't just turn them over to the authorities!"  
  
"I was gonna say, but what do we do with them _now_?"  
  
Max shrugged. "They can sleep in here for the night, can't they?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
"Logan, what if those whack jobs at the warehouse are looking for them? Those kids could be in danger.  
  
"I know, I know," he agreed with her, shaking his head with confusion. "I just don't know how all this ties into Emma Belding's disappearance."  
  
"We couldn't just leave them there," she reiterated as if he needed convincing.  
  
"Max, I_ agree_," he stressed. "But that doesn't mean I have a clue about what we're dealing with here."  
  
"Logan, if you'd only heard their mom's voice," Max told him, looking steadfastly into his eyes, her own eyes pools of concern reflecting the pain she'd heard in the woman's voice.  
  
Logan swallowed, then looked down at her hand, almost with the idea of placing his own hand over hers in a gesture of comfort, but then the thought flashed into his mind that maybe his intent wasn't about comfort at all, and he held back.  
  
"Well, one way or another we'll sort this out," he promised her instead, a little distantly.  
  
"I don't wanna see those girls growing up without a mother," Max said determinedly, not noticing his tone.  
  
"I know what you mean."  
  
"It's pretty late. We should get them into bed. You cool with it if I set them up in here?"  
  
"Well, considering the other option is to give up my own bed, I'd say it's a good plan," he smiled. "Need anything?"  
  
Max shook her head, getting up to close the curtains. "You wanna get them while I turn the bed down?"  
  
Logan looked a little uncomfortable at the suggestion. "I think they'd rather hear it from you that they're staying the night."  
  
"Okay," she agreed brightly.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------- ---  
  
The two girls were quite excited to be staying at Logan's. Monique because she was going to sleep in 'the big bed' with her sister, and Genevieve because Logan's apartment was luxury she had never come across before in her short life.  
  
Max got a washcloth out for both of them, regretting the fact that she hadn't realized earlier the girls would be staying as she would have gone out and bought them the necessary toiletries and some nightwear.  
  
Doing the best she could, she made sure their faces and hands were clean, stripped them to their underwear, and after finally discouraging Monique from jumping on the bed, she tucked them both in, and said her goodnights.  
  
"Max?" Genevieve asked, her voice sounding very small in the half-light of the opened doorway.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Will you find our mommy tomorrow?"  
  
Max thought there was a slight tremor in the quietly spoken words.  
  
Max hesitated, then finally said, "Maybe not tomorrow Genevieve, but we'll find her all right."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------- --------  
  
"I got the kids settled," Max told Logan sometime later, not surprised to find him in his study, gazing intently at his computer screen.  
  
"So ... watcha doin'?" she asked as she sauntered in, stopping to lean against the open sliding partition with an attitude that was unmistakeably hers.  
  
"I've been thinking about Uncle Jonas ..."  
  
"You tryin' ta give yourself nightmares?"  
  
"No," he disagreed dryly, "but I _have_ been working on why he was so set on avoiding interference."  
  
"Ah, that would be the, '_stay outta this Junior and let the big boys play_,' line," Max misquoted.  
  
Logan looked over at her. "I see my uncle managed to make quite an impression on you, as usual."  
  
"Yeah, and the more I see of Martin the more I think '_like father, like son'_. Do we_ hafta_ talk about them?" she asked, screwing up her face a little. "It's not that long since I ate."  
  
"Anyway, I decided I'd do a bit of checking into young Martin," Logan continued regardless. "I found out a few interesting things when I hacked into his bank account, and some of Cale Industries finance records."  
  
He definitely had her attention now.  
  
"It looks like Martin has had some financial problems."  
  
"How big?"  
  
"_Big,"_ Logan told her succinctly. "Big enough to dip into Cale funds by the look of it."  
  
"Could he do that?" asked Max, surprised.  
  
"He's in charge of finances for one of the divisions."  
  
"_Wow_," was all Max could say.  
  
"The thing is ..._why?"_  
  
"Drugs?" Max guessed.  
  
Logan thoughtfully released his brakes, shaking his head a little as he said, "I don't think so. I could be wrong, but I wouldn't have thought there was anything in his manner to suggest he's hooked on something, although I can't be sure, of course."  
  
"Gambling? Next obvious thing," Max suggested with a shrug.  
  
"It's a good chance," Logan agreed wryly.  
  
"Or he's being blackmailed," Max added suddenly.  
  
Logan grunted with irritation. "It would have helped if he'd just been honest with me in the first place."  
  
Max looked at him. The bruise on his face was quite spectacular now. "He's been playing you."  
  
"From the beginning. You wanna say, 'I told you so?'"  
  
"I'm feelin' benevolent," she quipped back. "Question is, what are you gonna do about it?"  
  
Logan rubbed the back of his neck, then pushed himself forward toward the kitchen, talking over his shoulder as Max followed him, "If it were only about Martin ..."  
  
"You'd dump this bitch back in his lap," she filled in succinctly.  
  
"Right," Logan agreed, taking the kettle off the stove and checking it wasn't hot before he put it on his lap.  
  
_"But?"_ put in Max, a touch cynically, watching Logan as he turned on the faucet and filled the kettle.  
  
"But now I have Matt Sung on suspension, not to mention a bullet hole in him, two small girls whose mother has gone missing, and we still don't know anything about Emma Belding herself or why those goons wanted that envelope."  
  
"_And_ killed Bryan Burke, took that tape, and burned down his office for that matter."  
  
"I think that just about sums it up," Logan remarked, stifling a yawn.  
  
Max watched him, her eyes suddenly serious. After all, he was only one man. She suddenly realized how much she relied upon him – how much she_ expected_ from him.  
  
"Do you think this is too much - even for Eyes Only?" she asked softly.  
  
Logan hesitated a fraction, then returned the kettle to the stove.  
  
"You want tea?" he said abruptly, not turning around.  
  
"Sure," Max answered, knowing with Logan patience was a virtue, and reflecting that he and Monique had a lot in common – neither liked to be told 'no.'  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------  
  
Logan spent another long hour at the computer before finally admitting that he was getting nowhere, and the night was rapidly disappearing.  
  
He shut down the computer, and then swung around to see Max, ensconced in a book, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped about her for comfort.  
  
"You goin' to bed?" Max asked, looking up and smiling at him.  
  
"Yeah," Logan replied, his expression softening a little as he looked at her. "I'll see ya in the morning."  
  
"Night."  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------  
  
"Logan, Logan."  
  
He'd lain in bed, his body desperate for sleep, but his mind was on overdrive, chaotically flashing images at him of all the events of the day.  
  
As if that weren't enough to disturb his night, there was now the fresh revelation of Martin's financial affairs – or lack of them, he thought wryly. How did it tie in to everything else – or maybe it didn't. He supposed he'd have to look into it further tomorrow – _I'll just add that to_ _the list_, he grinned humourlessly into the darkness.  
  
The visit of his uncle still bugged him – he looked up at the ceiling, his eyes distant, brooding. __

_I'm what you might call the black sheep of the family – he's a good reminder of what I don't_ _want to become._

How was it that Jonas was still able to get to him, even after all these years – how had his uncle always known what buttons to push, he wondered darkly, shifting his shoulders irritably. He supposed he should be grateful for Aunt Margo's concern, but the thought of Jonas and Margot discussing his 'situation' only made him feel more irritated, and filled him with a sense of embarrassment. Who knows what they say about me over their coffees and martinis he wondered, remembering vividly some of the things he'd heard them say about _others._  
  
The only brighter spot to the day had been the image of Max and the two girls. '_The picture of_ _domesticity_,' he grinned to himself, amazed as always at Max's ability to surprise him.

It had been a long time since he'd contemplated what it would be like to have children, and it was a subject he'd never even let his mind broach after the handiwork of Bruno Anselmo. He and Valerie had talked about it in the early days – with the disaster their marriage had turned out, he was grateful it had never happened. Now he had to wonder if it would _ever_ happen.  
  
Finally, sleep had overtaken him, but it had been a restless one, reflecting the state of his mind, rather than that of his body.  
  
"_Logan."_  
  
He found himself surfacing groggily to consciousness, and through eyes that squinted tiredly, he looked towards the figure silhouetted against his doorway.  
  
"Logan. _You awake_?"  
  
_"Max_?" he suddenly asked, snapping awake with a start as he realized she was standing at his bedroom door, calling his name.  
  
"Logan. Sorry to wake you. Monique threw up."  
  
Logan took this information in slowly. He gathered something was required of him, but he wasn't sure what.  
  
Struggling up on his elbows, he repeated vaguely, "She threw up?"  
  
Then he added with concern, "Is she _sick_?"  
  
"No...I'd say too many chocolates," she told him, a slight note of vindication in her voice.  
  
"Right," Logan nodded, wondering foggily if she was blaming him in some way.  
  
"I need some clean sheets ...No, don't bother getting up," she added quickly, not missing the small wince of pain she presumed was from his shoulder. "I got it covered, but I can't find the sheets."  
  
"They're in the room, bottom drawer of the bureau."  
  
"Cool," she thanked him, about to head back down the hallway.  
  
"You sure you don't want help?" Logan's voice halted her.  
  
Max turned back, a little amused. "How do you feel about the _chunky _bits?"  
  
He paused a beat, a vivid picture in his mind. "I don't want to think about it," he admitted with a rush.  
  
Seeing Logan's expression, she said, "Thought so," and disappeared.  
  
Logan lay down again, asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.  
  
"Logan. _Logan."_  
  
This time he awoke quicker.  
  
"_Max_?"  
  
"You got any laundry powder? For the sheets," she added, seeing his blank look.  
  
"It should be in the cupboard under the sink."  
  
"_Unh uh._ I looked there."  
  
Logan frowned.  
  
"Maybe I've run out," he finally said, for the life of him unable at four in the morning to get his mind around the state of his laundry cupboard when he had missing women, suspended policemen, and lying cousins to contend with.  
  
Max looked a bit amused. "You keep your finger on the pulse of Seattle's finest dirtbags 24/7, but you don't know the state of your own _laundry cupboard?"_  
  
Logan just looked at her, wondering to himself if he should admit to her that Bling would be far more likely to know.  
  
Max's look of amusement didn't slip as she saw that he looked a bit annoyed by her comment. "Hey, I'm a lateral thinker. No big dealio," she smiled at him, closing his door once more.  
  
Logan had a little more trouble this time getting back to sleep. He could hear the chatter of Max and the girls in the other room, Max's laugh over something one of them had said, the sound of running water, footsteps.  
  
With a few sighs and grunts, he changed his position, and finally, he drifted off, as he let the day's tension ease from his body, into a relaxing, restful sleep.  
  
"Logan." The voice was insistent. "_Logan."_  
  
This time he didn't open his eyes immediately. The thought flashed into his mind that his somewhat rosy picture of family life had taken a beating. In fact, children seemed like nothing but hard work, he mused tiredly, somehow ignoring the fact that Max had done all the cleaning and washing and comforting.  
  
"Okay," he muttered, sounding unmistakeably cranky about being disturbed a third time. "What is it this time?"  
  
"Logan, _it's morning,"_ Max told him dryly.  
  
This time his eyes snapped open with surprise.  
  
"Right." He sounded a little sheepish.  
  
With a touch of irony, Max leant against the doorframe and said, "Genevieve wanted to thank you for letting her stay in your crib. She's made you breakfast in bed."  
  
Logan looked startled at that. "She did? _Why?"_  
  
"It's called gratitude ..._showing affection_. You do remember those emotions?"  
  
Logan looked up at her from his pillows with an expression that said, "After the night I've had, it's too early in the morning to spar with you."  
  
"Shall I send her in?" Max simply asked, having used her best interpreter skills.  
  
"Fine by me," he responded coolly.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------- --------------  
  
Max smiled to herself as she saw Genevieve's concentration as she carried in the tray of coffee and toast. _Sure hope Logan manages to smile at her,_ she winced, wondering if she was sending a lamb to the slaughter.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------  
  
Max looked at the timer on her pager yet again. Bling had been in Logan's room for some time, doing his reps in there rather than in the exercise room, and still neither one had come out.  
  
She looked at the two girls, both seated at the kitchen counter eating their breakfast, and flashed them one of her smiles.  
  
"Logan can be kinda grumpy in the morning," she explained to them as she heard the raised voice yet again, hoping that Logan paid Bling a huge sum for his services.  
  
"You grumpy, Max?" asked Monique with concern.  
  
"Nope," said Max emphatically.  
  
"Logan grumpy?"  
  
"Sometimes a little," Max admitted.  
  
"Is your dad grumpy in the morning?" Max asked Genevieve.  
  
The child merely shrugged a little, and popped another piece of toast into her mouth.  
  
The child certainly wasn't forthcoming with many details about her parents, Max mused, looking up as Logan came in, showered but not looking extremely happy with the world.  
  
He gave her a tight smile.  
  
Max wondered if this would be the best time to broach the subject.  
  
"Logan. I gotta get goin' or Normal's gonna kick my a ..._butt_," she changed quickly at the last minute.  
  
He looked up at her in surprise.  
  
"You're _going_?"  
  
"_Logan_, if I miss another day of work, I'll lose my job."  
  
Logan looked meaningfully towards Genevieve, who was apparently absorbed in a morning kids' show, with a harassed look.  
  
_"Who's gonna watch the kids_?" he whispered intently.  
  
"Well, what's wrong with _you_?" she shot back, only to be surprised by what she thought was a look almost of panic on his face, but it was gone so quickly she half assumed she'd imagined it.  
  
"I got a whole heap o' work to do," he said tensely, "I can't look after two kids."  
  
"The way I hear it, all your work is in the apartment today," she answered coolly, tipping him to the fact that she'd overheard his earlier argument with Bling.  
  
He threw her an annoyed look.  
  
"Well, you were kind of loud you know, and besides, a stiff shoulder won't stop you from playing nanny. It just means you're housebound for the day. Makes you the perfect candidate," she finished, a trifle smugly. "Besides, I'm sure Bling isn't afraid o' kids," she added with meaning.  
  
"I'm not afraid of children, and Bling has to go, that's why he was over so early," Logan explained pedantically.  
  
"Logan, _what's there to do_? They look after themselves," Max told him, beginning to get a bit impatient with him. "All you have to do is feed them and find them something to do. Genevieve'll do all the bathroom stuff with Monique. Speaking of which ... _where is Monique_?"  
  
They both looked around suddenly, the argument forgotten momentarily. Max darted to the front door, and looked out in the hallway just in case.  
  
Logan wheeled through to the living area, but she wasn't there either.  
  
Bling, hearing their concerns from where he was folding towels on the workout table, came through to Logan and said, "She didn't come through here."  
  
Max was just about to check the bedrooms when Monique came bouncing into the kitchen, happily absorbed in shaking a small white plastic bottle to hear the lovely sound it made.  
  
Bling looked towards Logan as he came into the kitchen, his expression a mixture of apology and guilt.  
  
"Sorry Logan. Guess I didn't close the bathroom cabinet door when I got those pain killers out."  
  
"Nothing to stop her from opening it again, anyway," Logan stated, brushing off his apology and watching as Max prised the bottle off the child, who surprisingly didn't complain.  
  
"You can't have those. They'd make you very sick," Max told her gently.  
  
"My tummy spilled out my mouth," Monique announced, a little tragically at this point, Max's words reminding her of the night's events.  
  
"That's right, and if you don't wanna be sick again, you'd better not touch Logan's things," Max warned her.  
  
The child nodded her head, looking with a touch of alarm towards Logan, perhaps with anticipation of a harsh word from that direction.  
  
Max picked her up, both to make her feel assured, and thinking that for the moment, it was nice to know exactly where she was.  
  
She turned to Logan a little hesitantly – he was already touchy enough on the subject.  
  
"I can help you move your meds so that they're not at her level before I go," she offered.  
  
"Max, '_everything'_ in this apartment is at her level," he retorted caustically.  
  
Damn, he had a point, she thought unexpectedly.  
  
Always the voice of reason, Bling said, "Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration. There's a big difference between her reach and yours Logan. It'd only take me a few minutes to child proof this place before I go."  
  
Feeling like the world was conspiring against him, Logan nodded his agreement to Bling. He couldn't have Max lose her job on account of him, he thought a little guiltily.  
  
Max checked the time again. "Gotta blaze," she said hastily, putting Monique down and promising to see her after she'd finished work. "Logan will look after you _real_ well," she smiled at her with a wink.  
  
The child didn't look overly sure of the fact, and looked at Logan with a degree of uncertainty before running over to Genevieve, who appeared relatively unconcerned about who would look after them.  
  
Logan followed Max to the door, not altogether happy about how his day was panning out. When they'd rescued the children the day before, he hadn't supposed for a minute that he was going to have to actually look after them, least of all by himself.  
  
Max turned to him and smiled as she slipped out the door, "Why don't you just smile at them, Logan. Let them know that underneath that _grumpy_ exterior is a ...slightly less grumpy ... interior."  
  
----------------------------------------------------------- ------------  
  
Max paused appreciatively for a moment as her motorbike nudged the road outside Logan's building after driving up from the gloom of the underground parking garage.  
  
The sun was shining in a clear blue sky for the first time in days, adding a clarity and crispness to the scene before her, even though her breath still lingered in the air as a white swirl.  
  
_Pity Logan was gonna be stuck in the apartment all day_, she mused as she put her gloves on, then stopped herself almost guiltily, wondering since when did her thought life revolve around him.  
  
_Now the kids would have liked this weather_, she decided.  
  
Waiting for a break in the traffic, she revved her bike that little bit harder, a smile on her face as thinking about the kids made her think of Logan's look of horror at the thought that he might have to look after them.

_Funny how he'll take on a Bronck or a Sonrisa, but baulk at the idea of_ _two children, neither one intent on destroying the world – although I do hope Monique doesn't destroy his apartment,_ she grimaced.  
  
She was thankful Bling had been there to volunteer for the job of childproofing the penthouse. The thought sobered her for a moment as she headed out onto the road, the air slowly whipping her hair back more and more as she gradually gathered speed.

_Maybe I'm being too hard on_ _him – maybe this is about the chair and not just about the kids,_ she worried suddenly with a stab of conscience. _It's easy for me to be flippant about it,_ she berated herself a little.  
  
Weaving expertly in and out of the almost stopped morning rush hour, she decided to skip out of Jam Pony as early as possible without incurring Normal's wrath. _After all, I'm the one who was so set on saving the kids in the first place.  
_  
Max was so completely immersed in her thoughts about Logan that she didn't scan the crowds around Logan's apartment as she would normally do given the circumstances.  
  
She didn't notice the man in the suit across the road, idly leaning against the lamppost, and the other man in the dark suit standing by the curb as if waiting for a bus. They simply blended in with all the other sights she half-saw that morning.  
  
Stopping at the next set of traffic lights, she looked up high, straining her neck as she took in the blueness of it all.  
  
"Yep, not a cloud in sight," she murmured.  
  
TBC


	11. Highs and Lows

Thanks once more for all your support – your reviews are so encouraging!  
  
Special thanks as always to Alaidh who goes to so much effort on my behalf.  
  
Chapter 11  
  
"Well, that's all done. I'm ready to go," Bling called to Logan from the kitchen, humming a little as he went through to the front door to grab his jacket from the coat stand in the hallway.  
  
When Logan didn't answer, he went around to the study.  
  
"I said I'll be leaving now," he repeated, watching Logan from the doorway. "You sure you'll be okay with the kids?"  
  
Without taking his eyes from the screen, Logan answered coolly as he stabbed at the keys, "Yup. Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
Bling shrugged a little. "You sure there's nothing else you want me to do before I go?"  
  
He'd already gone through the apartment, targeting anything he thought would be dangerous to a child of three, or anything that Logan would especially not want broken. He'd suggested to Logan leaving his meds, now boxed, above the wine rack where Monique couldn't reach, but Logan, worried that she'd be able to access them by standing on a chair, had been adamant they go on the top shelf of his hallway closet.  
  
There weren't many other items that had to be moved. Bling remembered what the apartment had looked like when he had first seen it, full of antiques and curios, but Logan had streamlined it considerably when he'd first returned home from the hospital. A lot of it, like changes to some of the furniture and knocking out a wall, had been made to accommodate the wheelchair, but Bling had often wondered why Logan had removed so many of his other pieces – maybe a subconscious decision to cut off the old way of life from the new. He really didn't know why, and it had never come up in their conversations.  
  
Logan merely shook his head in answer to his trainer's question.  
  
Bling went back to kitchen, picked up a couple of things off the counter, then called out, "Good-bye!" to the two girls as he walked back to Logan's desk. They were playing with a wooden puzzle of Logan's on the low glass topped table in front of the couch.  
  
Both looked up and smiled at him, perhaps on Genevieve's face a slight hint of disappointment, and definitely one from Monique. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but somehow he had been talked into giving them piggyback rides around the apartment.  
  
"I kept these down for you," Bling said quietly to Logan, putting the tablets and ointment on his desk. "You'll need to put some of that cream on your knees tonight," he added seriously.  
  
"Whatever," Logan muttered, barely taking his eyes off the screen as he merely glanced towards where Bling had put them well back on his desk, out of the way of small hands.  
  
About to head out, Bling turned and said, "It should only take a day you know, Logan."  
  
Logan stopped for the moment and looked up at him distractedly.  
  
"_The shoulder_," explained Bling. "You should only have to lay off the transfers to the car for a day."  
  
"Right," snapped Logan, turning back to his screen.  
  
With an inaudible sigh, Bling gave up trying to get him in a better mood. "I'll be seein' yah," he nodded, and headed for the door.  
  
Logan looked up as the door closed, realizing he hadn't said goodbye. _Well, it wouldn't be the_ _first time_, he mused a little guiltily, turning back to his screen.  
  
His first priority that morning had been to find out who the girls' parents were, or where they lived. He'd tried hacking into Social Security or checking car licence details, even immigration in case one of the parents had not been born in the US, but he drew a blank every time. With growing irritation he looked at the clock on his computer – none of this was helping him discover where Emma Belding had gone, or who had shot Matt Sung, or a hundred other questions he needed answered.  
  
Unlocking his brakes, he quickly swung around to check behind him. He could see Genevieve at the window with Monique, pointing out to her the various things she could see. They'd been there for some time, apparently fascinated with watching the world go by so far beneath them.  
  
He could understand it – how many countless times had he sat there and done the same thing, although not with the same childlike fascination that they had. More likely when his thoughts were dark and he wanted to escape the world.  
  
The sudden ring of his phone brought his attention back to matters at hand. He answered it with his customary obscure brevity, "Hey."  
  
"It's Matt."  
  
"Hey," Logan responded a little tensely, then forcing himself to relax a little, he said, "How're you doin'?"  
  
He could imagine the detective's smile at the other end as he said, "They've got me so doped up on stuff I don't know if I'm seeing double because of that or the slice outta my head."  
  
Logan smiled a little, then added soberly, "That was a pretty dumb stunt you pulled yesterday morning."  
  
"Well, I know this crazy guy ..."  
  
"I learned my lesson the hard way, Matt," Logan interrupted him. "I never wanted _you_ to do that."  
  
Matt laughed outright at that. "Ah, that would be 'do as I say, not as I do'."  
  
Logan relaxed, smiling wider, Matt's good humour having its effect on him.  
  
"So, how's the head? I kinda hate to bring this up, but just before all hell broke loose you were gonna give me a name."  
  
"_I was?"_  
  
Logan pulled a face. He'd half expected something like this.  
  
"Don't worry Matt. It'll probably come back to you in a few days. Just take it easy in there. Let me know if you need anything."  
  
"Will do."  
  
Logan grimaced again as he hung up the phone. He could have really used that name, but it seemed to be par for the course when you considered everything else that had gone wrong the last few days.  
  
"Sore?"  
  
With surprise he looked down a little to see Monique with one chubby hand tapping on his leg, her face turned to his, carefully watching his expression.  
  
He grinned suddenly at her, running a hand along his other leg. "No, not sore."  
  
He looked around to see where Genevieve was, and found her standing a little uncertainly by the sliding partition into the living area.  
  
"I told Monique your legs don't work," she explained a little hesitantly.  
  
Logan nodded, then turned back to the younger child. "That's right – they _don't work_," he spelled out for Monique's benefit, hoping he sounded upbeat about it.  
  
The two girls continued to regard him seriously.  
  
_Just what did Max say about me_, he wondered, his conscience starting to prick him that he'd virtually ignored them for most of the morning.  
  
"So ..." he nodded at Genevieve, almost a touch nervously, unlocking his brakes and biting his bottom lip a little as he thought bracingly to himself,_ I can do this_.  
  
He went to move forward but realized at the last minute that Monique's fingers were about to get caught in the spokes.  
  
"Don't touch," Genevieve told her sharply, coming forward to grab her hand as she commented to Logan, "You have lots of computers and things."  
  
"Yep, sure have," Logan responded a little awkwardly.  
  
"So," he nodded at them both again, his eyes sweeping the room for inspiration, and to his great surprise, finding it.  
  
There was one thing he definitely felt confident with.  
  
"You girls _hungry_?"  
  
-------------------------------------------------- --------  
  
When given a choice, both girls had opted eagerly for pancakes, apparently a favourite they hadn't had in a long time.  
  
"Sure," Logan had agreed, breathing a sigh of relief that he had the ingredients for what they wanted. "We can make it brunch. You girls wanna help?"  
  
Both had nodded eagerly, so Logan, feeling quite pleased with himself, set about instructing them on where to find the necessary ingredients and implements.  
  
"Okay, you ready to flip that one?" he asked Genevieve some time later, both peering into the pan as the first of the mixture began to bubble slightly.  
  
"Sure," she yelled back at him, slightly overcompensating for the noise that Monique was making by banging a wooden spoon energetically on some of Logan's mixing bowls.  
  
"You done this before?" he asked, getting the spatula out of the drawer.  
  
"No, my dad used ta always do it. But that was a long time ago," she added a little sadly.  
  
"You said your dad had to go away?" Logan prompted gently.  
  
"He made really good pancakes," was the evasive answer.  
  
Logan nodded, looking at her thoughtfully as she concentrated on flipping. Someone had taught this child how to evade questions. Maybe she'd had a lifetime of it.  
  
"What are we gonna have on them?" she asked, once they were flipped and almost cooked.  
  
Wheeling across to the refrigerator, Logan said, "I'm pretty sure I've got some maple syrup in here somewhere."  
  
"Wow. You've got maple syrup?" Genevieve asked, undeniably impressed. "We only have that on special occasions."  
  
Logan grinned at her excitement, remembering a time when everyone could afford maple syrup, even if it was only the imitation variety.  
  
"What kinda special occasions?" Logan tried again.  
  
Genevieve shrugged as she turned another pancake. "I don't remember."  
  
"_Genevieve..."_ he began, only to turn quickly as Monique began to cry loudly from where she sat on the kitchen floor with her 'drum kit'.  
  
Logan looked to Genevieve. "_Why's she crying_?" he asked suspiciously - hoping he wasn't going to have to resort to the chocolates again as he didn't like the idea of having to deal with the possible aftermath.  
  
"She probably just hurt herself," Genevieve replied calmly, as if this were an everyday occurrence, which it probably was, as she put her spatula down and went over to her sister.  
  
"I'll swap you," said Logan thankfully, taking over the pancake job.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------- ----------  
  
In a remarkably short time, the three of them had managed to demolish a plate of the pancakes and nearly all the maple syrup. Monique was a sticky mess, but Genevieve telling Logan that her mom always put an old towel around her neck had saved her clothing.  
  
"Your mom's a wise lady," Logan smiled at her as he looked at the amount of food that hadn't made its way into Monique's mouth.  
  
"Yeah," smiled the older girl, obviously happy with the compliment.  
  
The usually pristine kitchen had been transformed in record time to something that you could only describe as the 'lived-in' look. Flour was sprinkled liberally across the counter and floor – Logan wasn't quite sure how that had happened, and there was now a very sticky mess in front of the refrigerator where Monique had dropped not one, but two eggs, when she had insisted on helping, and Logan hadn't quite known how to discourage her from wanting that particular job.  
  
"Mom just says 'no'," Genevieve - whom Logan was fast regarding as the fount of all knowledge – stated in a no-nonsense manner. Probably very like the one her mom adopted with fussing children, Logan smiled inwardly, reflecting with a hazy memory that it must be the universal tone of mothers all over the world.  
  
He'd taken the wayward descent of the first egg quite calmly, but when the second one went the way of the first, and all he could picture was himself having to clean it up, he had to confess to becoming the 'tiniest' bit annoyed.  
  
When Monique, however, turned her face towards him and said, her big, serious blue eyes wide open, "Oops. I sorry, Logan," surprisingly his annoyance had vanished and he found himself waving a hand and saying dismissively, "It's fine."  
  
"Should we tidy up now?" Genevieve asked bravely, surveying the scene.  
  
Rubbing the back of his head vigorously he thought about it. "No. I think we'll do it later, huh? How about you kids do some drawing?"  
  
Genevieve looked a little unimpressed by this idea. "We did that before."  
  
"Watch TV?"  
  
"Nothing on."  
  
Logan quickly searched his mind for something they could do – it was going to be quite a while before Max came back. His eyes swept around the apartment – he was hardly set up for babysitting.  
  
Somewhere at the back of his mind, he had a vague recollection of having a box of childhood things somewhere in his bedroom closet.  
  
He looked across at Genevieve, considering her for the moment.  
  
"What?" she asked him when she noticed.  
  
"What are you like with heights?"  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------- ------------  
  
Between the two of them, they'd managed to carry the step ladder that Logan kept in his hallway closet into his bedroom and set it up at his closet, all the while Genevieve chatting away, now quite relaxed and telling him about how she loved heights and her excitement when her mom had first taken her up the Empire State Building.  
  
"I know there are plenty of skyscrapers bigger than that one, but it's still my favourite. When you look down everyone looks like ants and your stomach kinda does flip flops!" she finished enthusiastically.  
  
Logan did his best to look impressed.  
  
"How old are you again?" he asked her thoughtfully, leaning back a little.  
  
"I'm ten."  
  
_Ten_, thought Logan – and she loves _heights?  
_  
"How do you feel about spiders?" he asked her calculatingly.  
  
"I hate'em," Genevieve responded immediately with a shudder, "they give me nightmares."  
  
Logan nodded – this time trying not to look satisfied.  
  
"Logan, I don't like 'piders," Monique added in her singsong voice as she wandered off to inspect the now empty bathroom cabinet.  
  
Deciding that for the 'children's sake' he should change the subject, he turned his attention back to the stepladder.  
  
"Okay, Genevieve, let me just check that this is steady for you," he remarked, wheeling forward. Once satisfied, he let her climb up, then wheeled back a little so that he could see what was up there.  
  
"Now, I think we're looking for a plain cardboard box, if I remember correctly," he told her, frowning a little in the effort to remember. _"Hey_, make sure you hold on to something," he added sharply as she wobbled a little.  
  
"I'm okay, Logan," she told him with the natural confidence of a ten year old.  
  
"Just toss that white plastic bag down that's in front, and I think the box maybe behind it."  
  
There weren't a lot of things on the top shelf. The important things Bling had moved down for him in his early days home from the hospital.  
  
"Here, catch," she called, throwing him the bag, which Logan put on the floor.  
  
"I can see a box," she said with a tinge of excitement.  
  
"Well," Logan murmured as he looked up and concentrated on what she was doing, "it's probably just some old DVDs an' stuff. I wouldn't get too excited."  
  
"We've never owned _any_ DVDs," she responded simply, reminding Logan that he took his wealth for granted.  
  
Turning around, he realized he'd lost track of Monique, but coasting back a bit, he found he could see her through the doorway, jumping happily on his bed as if it were a trampoline.  
  
Genevieve's reach was just long enough for her to hook her fingers around the edge of the box and drag it forward to where she could get a firm hold of it.  
  
"_Great_," Logan congratulated her, which made her cheeks flush slightly as he took the medium sized box she passed to him in order to get down.  
  
"Okay, let's see what we've got," he murmured, putting it on his lap and taking it through to his bedroom where he deposited it on the bed, Genevieve following him.  
  
Monique stopped jumping, either out of curiosity or guilt, and climbed down from the bed.  
  
"Well?" enquired Genevieve hopefully, tucking her long hair behind her ears as she leant forward to peer into it.  
  
"There's not a lot of stuff in here," he warned her, as he pulled out some old DVDs, a few photos of him from school, which Genevieve looked at with interest, two hardly used board games, which he wondered why he'd even bothered to keep – computer games having been his thing – and the DVDs he'd remembered. He felt like he should apologize for getting her hopes up, but the child was more than happy.  
  
"Hey, I've never seen these movies," she exclaimed with pleasure when she saw the DVDs he had now spread out on the bed. "This is so _cool."_  
  
He smiled a little at the expression.  
  
"Can we play one of them now?"  
  
"Sure," he agreed, looking around in time to see Monique coming back into the room, now dragging the white plastic bag that he'd left on the floor.  
  
Genevieve rebuked her a little, saying, _'Monique_, give that bag to Logan."  
  
Monique looked like she would have liked to argue the point, until she was distracted by the contents of the now open box spread out on the bed, immediately declaring that all of it was, _"Mine."_  
  
"Now that's an expression I haven't heard in a while," Logan smiled, as he opened the plastic bag and looked inside it.  
  
"Logan, can I open up one of the games first?"  
  
"Logan?"  
  
She looked at him curiously when he didn't answer.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Logan looked up suddenly. "You say something?"  
  
"I just wanted to know if we could play with the game?" she repeated, this time a little louder as if he were slightly deaf.  
  
Mentally shaking himself, and clearing his throat, Logan got his mind around the fog that had suddenly descended on his mind, and said, "Sure. Why don't you girls go set it up on the table?"  
  
Genevieve took Monique's hand and led her out, both happy with their new treasure, leaving Logan, bag in hand, staring intently somewhere ahead, a little thrown by the intensity of emotion that was now coursing through him.  
  
He remembered they'd been his favourites at the time.  
  
Steeling himself he looked in the bag again.  
  
They weren't quite as he remembered; he hadn't remembered them being so badly scuffed on the toes.  
  
Then again, he guessed dryly, you land pretty heavily once your spinal cord is shot out. He'd seen the holes in his cargo pants when they'd turned him over on the hover drone footage, along with the ugly grazes on his face.  
  
Reaching into the bag, his long, slender fingers slid along the leather, feeling the creases where the leather had been forced to soften and stretch. His eyes held fast to where the heels had been worn down – well, he didn't have that problem nowadays.  
  
It had always bothered him a little that he didn't know for sure what had happened to the rest of his clothes –that he hadn't been in any state to make decisions. He had a vague memory that one of the nurses had told him they'd all had to be cut off – you don't move spinal cord injury patients unnecessarily – but he'd been so pumped full of morphine and who knows what else those first few weeks that he couldn't be sure. All he remembered now from that time was that he'd been catapulted into a hazy world of pain and nightmares that he couldn't wake from.  
  
Pity they'd cut off the jacket too – another favourite - but then, not much good to him with a hole in the back, he thought dryly.  
  
Unconsciously he sat up that little bit straighter in his chair – is it better to see the gun and know it's coming, or have the bullet slam into you, unexpectedly when your back is turned?  
  
Stupid to keep them, he thought now as looked in the bag again – he hadn't even known why he wanted to at the time, all he knew was that for whatever reason, when the nurse had brought them to him, asking if he wanted her to throw them away, he'd felt something akin to panic and he'd snapped, "No."  
  
Maybe they were a reminder of those final inglorious moments of a life he'd never have again.  
  
The sun coming through the window highlighted the blonde from the brown three-day stubble of his unshaven face, as he frowningly thought how weird it was that the mind could reproduce so vividly a time he would much rather forget.  
  
Swallowing hard, Logan fought back the urge to get out the hover drone footage as he closed the bag with an air of finality, rolling the ends down until it was closed tight and bulging with air. He knew that urge was like a drug, an addiction – and the high that came with the morbid fascination would only leave him feeling drained and empty and kind of ill.  
  
Wheeling back to his closet, the bag on his lap, Logan quickly picked it up and threw it with all the skill of his basketball expertise to the back of the top shelf, admitting to himself that if the girls hadn't been there, he would have done it – would have given himself over to that place of darkness, and this time Bling would probably have kicked his ass if he'd found him. He'd been disgusted enough the last time.  
  
"Logan, can we watch one of the DVDs now?" asked Genevieve, calling to him from the box on the bed.  
  
"_Logan?"_  
  
Decisively unlocking his brakes with a deep breath, he slowly wheeled back through to the bedroom.  
  
"No Monique, _don't touch," _Genevieve was telling her sister, who was trying to pull everything out of the box at once. "_No,"_ she added more forcefully, as Monique then snatched two of the DVDs out of her hand.  
  
Still feeling a bit disoriented, Logan set himself to the task at hand – which appeared to be preventing World War 3 and saving the DVDs.  
  
"Monique," he called to the younger child, setting his brakes again as he stopped at the bed and then held his out hand for the movies.  
  
Monique took one look at his outstretched hand and thought this was a great game, smiling mischievously at him as his hand came near, then at the last minute jumping back further on the bed so that she was out of his reach.  
  
"_Hey!"_ he snapped with more heat than he meant to as he nearly overbalanced by lunging too far forward to grab the movies from the gleeful child, only managing to save himself at the last minute by putting a hand out on the bed.  
  
The room went suddenly very still.  
  
Both girls looked at him apprehensively.  
  
Monique, ever sensitive to a harsh tone and discovering that she wasn't going to get her way, did what all three year olds do – she cried. _Loudly._  
  
--------------------------------------------------- ---------  
  
Max looked at the old phone on the wall of Jam Pony, oblivious to the comings and goings of those around her.  
  
She put out a hand to pick up the receiver with a deep breath, as if she were coming to a major decision, then just as quickly let her hand drop back to her side.  
  
"Never knew that ole thing ta bite," a voice said close to her.  
  
Startled a little from her reverie, Max looked up to see Original Cindy regarding her with a speculative look.  
  
"You an' Logan have a _fight_?" she asked pointedly.  
  
Max gave her a look. "Course not."  
  
"He got himself in some kinda trouble again, Boo?"  
  
Max shook her head.  
  
Folding her arms and shifting her weight to throw out her hip, O.C. wasn't to be put off. "Now sugah, are you gonna tell Original Cindy what's goin' down or is she gonna have to beat it outta you?" she finished with a smile.  
  
"I left Logan looking after two kids for the day," Max admitted to her.  
  
_"Dayum_ - now _that's_ something I'd like to see!" her friend said irrepressibly, quickly bringing her smile back under control as she saw Max's less than impressed expression.  
  
"What's so funny about that?" Max asked a little defensively.  
  
"Boo, if there was nothin' funny 'bout it, you wouldn't be standing here tryin' to work up enough courage to phone him," she informed her dryly.  
  
"I just don't want it to look like I'm checking up on him – I'm sure he's doing fine. He's probably real good with kids. Logan's good at most things," she added persuasively.  
  
"Whatever you gotta tell yourself, Boo – the man's a regular Mary Poppins: practically perfect in every way," Original Cindy finished dryly.  
  
It was so far from the truth that Max couldn't stop the smile that flashed out.  
  
_"OC_," she rebuked her, laughing.  
  
"So – _you gonna call him?"_ Cindy asked her directly.  
  
Max looked at her for a moment, all the reasons she was worried about Logan flashing into her mind – worries she couldn't share with her best friend. Logan's attitudes towards the chair were his business.  
  
"I was worried about him because sometimes he has these ..." she searched the right word, _"issues,"_ she finally finished with vaguely.  
  
Original Cindy simply nodded, a hint of understanding in her eyes.  
  
Making up her mind, Max said determinedly, "You know, he's probably got the whole dealio under control. Let's have lunch."  
  
------------------------------------------------------------ -------------  
  
Logan stared out at the buildings, glittering, and looking almost new in the glorious sunshine against the backdrop of the blue sky.  
  
On days like this it was hard to believe The Pulse had ever happened, until you let your eyes drop down to the mess that was humanity surviving in the streets below – not that much of it could be seen from where he sat.  
  
He could hear the girls laughing suddenly at something on the DVD they were watching in his study, sitting side-by-side on the very chair Bruno Anselmo had sat in.  
  
He still felt bad about his earlier outburst – it must be hard enough for the two of them not knowing where their parents were without him taking all his stupid frustration out on them as well. And he_ had_ been angry, he admitted uncomfortably, grasping both wheels with his hands and cautiously letting his shoulders take his weight as he shifted his position a little.  
  
The music soundtrack on the DVD suddenly changed to something mildly threatening, and glancing around he wasn't surprised to see Monique steal into her sister's arms. It brought back a sudden memory to him - a small boy, curled up on his mother's lap, experiencing the thrill of fear but too intrigued to turn away.  
  
Max was right – somehow they had to find the girls' parents. Too many kids were faced with lonely lives, missing out on the security and warmth of a mother's arms.  
  
There were times when he wished he could go back to it himself.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------  
  
Logan surveyed the mess in his kitchen – he was man enough to not let Max clean it for him, but he would have been more than happy if Bling had walked in at that moment and offered to do it.  
  
Not quite knowing what to attack first, Logan decided to grab a cloth and start with the counters. _The remains of the eggs I'll definitely leave until last,_ he decided.  
  
He'd only started on the first counter when the doorbell rang.  
  
With a grunt of irritation he absently put the cloth in his lap and headed for the door, only to stare in surprise when he saw Martin Cale standing there yet again.  
  
"_Martin!"_  
  
"Caught you at a bad time?" his cousin asked.  
  
"Martin, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to lay low!"  
  
Martin shrugged.  
  
"So, you busy?" he asked Logan, looking pointedly at the cloth that was now beginning to leave a wet mark on Logan's leg.  
  
Logan looked down at it with a hint of annoyance, quickly swinging around and heading back to the kitchen to dump it in the sink.  
  
Martin looked around in amazement. "Woah, what happened _here?"_  
  
At that moment Monique trotted out on hearing the voices.  
  
Martin looked considerably taken aback to see a three year old in his cousin's apartment, then even more surprised when Genevieve followed to see what her sister was up to.  
  
Logan," said Martin, looking at his cousin in a new light, "_they're not..."_  
  
"No," snapped Logan coldly.  
  
Not bothering to introduce the girls to his cousin, Logan wheeled over to them and said quietly, "How about you girls head back in and finish the movie."  
  
Genevieve threw a slightly suspicious look at Martin, then took Monique's hand and led her back to the study.  
  
Logan looked up at Martin.  
  
His cousin was still trying to disguise himself in some way. This time he wore a pair of while overalls with the words, 'Morton's Cleaning Services' printed on the back in bold letters. He took off the baseball cap that he'd been wearing and tried to fluff his hair out again. Logan thought his face looked a little strained.  
  
"I've got a killer of a headache, Logan. You got anything I could take for it?" Martin winced, putting a hand to his forehead.  
  
"Too much partying, Martin?" Logan couldn't resist, not feeling the least bit of sympathy for him.  
  
"It may surprise you, but – no!"  
  
Logan raised his eyebrows, but made no further comment as he wordlessly headed to his desk to grab the bottle of tablets Bling had left there.  
  
Martin, even though he was in his cleaning overalls, had fastidiously picked over the mess of Logan's kitchen, as if he were in one of his designer suits and had no wish to get it marked, to find himself a glass.  
  
"There you go," Logan muttered, picking up the tablets from his lap and throwing them at Martin, who stood by the sink about to fill his glass.  
  
Logan watched him as he popped two of the pills in his mouth and took a few gulps of the water.  
  
"So why are you here, Martin?" Logan asked without warmth.  
  
"I had an idea about some of that stuff you showed me last night, the notes from Bryan Burke."  
  
"And?"  
  
Perhaps a little thrown by Logan's coldness, Martin a little hesitantly said, "One of the roads I think I remember. The notes said, 'H/G Road,' – well I seem to remember Burke telling me that he was going to look into something or someone, I can't remember which, along Hillsgate Road."  
  
He looked across at Logan, trying to judge the effect of his words.  
  
"It may be a start," was the cool reply.  
  
Martin was beginning to feel a little nettled by Logan's reaction. "Listen, Logan, you can't blame _me_ for what happened to that friend of yours."  
  
"I didn't say I did."  
  
Genevieve, on hearing the slightly raised voice, left her sister and stood unnoticed behind the partition closest to the kitchen.  
  
"Well, you're implying it. _You and Max both_!" Martin accused him.  
  
"What I'm wondering is why you haven't been telling me the truth," Logan said with restraint, "and does any of this have anything to do with the fact that your account is seriously overdrawn."  
  
Martin paled at that revelation, then his face turning red, his voice considerably raised, he said, "You had no right to check into my financial situation, Logan. It's none of your_ damned_ business."  
  
"That's where you're wrong, Martin. From the first time you lied to me, I had every right to check into what you've been telling me."  
  
Martin was breathing quickly now, his face still suffused with colour.  
  
"Besides, I doubt if Jonas will be able to keep it covered up for too long that you've been dipping into Cale funds."  
  
Martin looked at him in horror for the moment, then stepped forward explosively, "Dammit, Logan. You told Jonas? _Why you_ ..."  
  
At that moment, Genevieve came running out from her hiding place to stand next to Logan, her face determined. "You hurt Logan and I'll tell Max – and she can _whip your butt!"_ she charged him fierily.  
  
Martin took a step back, brought up short by the small whirlwind of fury in front of him, and now feeling a little ashamed that his anger had been construed in such a light.  
  
"I wouldn't hurt Logan," he told her irritably. "He's my _cousin."_  
  
Genevieve looked at Logan in surprise. "He's your cousin?"  
  
Logan nodded at her wryly, both bemused and amused that the ten year old thought she had to defend him against Martin. Then again, maybe she was a good judge of character.  
  
"Well, I don't like him!" she stated nonetheless.  
  
"I don't like him, _too,"_ another voice called from the study, in a fine imitation of her sister's, and Logan turned to see Monique with her arms folded in an attitude of three year old defiance.  
  
He grunted a little with exasperation – now he had a three year old defending him.  
  
"You have quite an entourage of beautiful bodyguards," smirked Martin in a wonderful impersonation of his father.  
  
Logan looked up at him at that.  
  
"We'd better talk about this later, Logan," Martin added dismissively. "I'll come back when we can talk – privately," he finished, his gaze sweeping the two girls.  
  
"You can talk to me any time you like, Martin – as long as you're prepared to tell me the truth, and _all_ of it this time."  
  
Martin shrugged a little defensively. "I'll see myself out," he muttered, and turned and left, leaving Logan to stare pensively at the now closed door.  
  
He looked up after a moment to see both girls looking at him seriously, then he looked around at the disaster that had become his kitchen.  
  
"How do you girls feel about a walk?" he grinned at them.  
  
TBC 


	12. A shopping expedition

A very big thanks for all the reviews! They definitely inspire me!

Extra special thanks to Alaidh, the world's best beta, for all the time she spent on this chapter!

Chapter 12  
  
"Dayum girl, that sure was a hot run." Original Cindy looked at Max in surprise.  
  
"Yeah, well I'm tryin' to bolt outta here early," Max answered absently, reading the address on the next package Normal had thrown at her as soon as she'd ridden in the doors of Jam Pony.  
  
OC raised one eyebrow.  
  
"That would be the 'I'm home early honey but I'm not checkin' up on you' visit?"  
  
Max gave her a look. "I don't call Logan _'honey'_," wrinkling her nose at the thought.  
  
"Give it time, sugah," OC murmured under her breath.  
  
Max was ready to rise to the bait but the voice of the news reporter broke through her thoughts.  
  
"Police are baffled by the find of another severed arm in the South Market district. No details have been released as yet but it appears the body itself is still missing. A man tried to ..."  
  
Max stared at the screen intently for a moment, no longer listening.  
  
She'd been edgy all day. She had had a strange elusive feeling from very early on that she'd missed something important that she should have seen – the thought made her feel almost guilty. Wasn't she trained to be observant?  
  
"So, is Original Cindy gonna have ta book a time to get her homegirl's attention today?"  
  
Max turned around suddenly at her words.  
  
"Sorry, OC. Guess I've got something on my mind," Max murmured vaguely.  
  
"Maybe you should make that _someone_."  
  
Max looked up, suddenly decisive. "I gotta go."  
  
"_Max!"_  
  
"It's important OC." Max's large brown eyes pleaded silently.  
  
Original Cindy took one look at those expressive eyes and sighed resignedly, "_Okay._ You know Original Cindy always got her homegirl's back."  
  
Max smiled her thanks. "You know I'll return the favour."  
  
"_Damn straight, you will,"_ she called as Max turned to leave.  
  
_Now what excuse hasn't Normal heard,_ she pondered quickly, _cause Original Cindy's gonna have to come up with one reeel quick.  
_  
-------------------------------------------------------- ------------  
  
Logan checked his watch yet again as he waited by the front door of his apartment for Genevieve and Monique. They'd have to be reasonably fast if they were going to have enough time to look before the store he had in mind closed for the evening.  
  
"We're here," Genevieve called to him as she came around the corner from the kitchen, Monique in tow, jackets on and hair brushed. Logan had suggested the jackets, while Genevieve had insisted on brushing both her own and Monique's hair. She also insisted they go to the bathroom and wash up.  
  
_Just like a girl,_ thought Logan impatiently. Well, maybe not _every _girl.  
  
"Let's go, then," he said thankfully when they finally appeared in their pristine condition, thanks to Genevieve. Logan had to admit they both looked kind of cute as they went down in the elevator.  
  
Logan pushed his way through the doorway and out onto the pavement; Genevieve and Monique followed close behind.  
  
He'd left the kitchen in its diabolical state, hoping vaguely that they'd be back before Max returned – after all, he didn't want her to think that Eyes Only couldn't handle two children for the day.  
  
The sidewalk was reasonably congested with people – all apparently enjoying the warmth of the early spring sun - as well as the inevitable garbage and safety fences covering the numerous potholes that had been there months, even years. All this considering that Logan's neighbourhood was the up- market end of town.  
  
Genevieve now walked a little in front of Logan, tightly holding Monique's hand. The younger child had an alarming tendency to be distracted by anything that took her interest and would start to wander off accordingly, which made Logan, as it would anyone completely inexperienced in the ways of children - particularly wilful three year olds - feel decidedly uneasy.  
  
It didn't help that he doubted his ability to be fast enough to grab her – the badly maintained sidewalks were difficult enough to navigate as it was without the added problem of chasing a small child. He placed a lot of confidence in Genevieve but it went against the grain to have to rely on a child for another child's safety.  
  
"Where're we going?" Genevieve asked Logan as they stopped at a curb to wait for the green light.  
  
"Red means stop!" Monique interrupted importantly  
  
"There's a department store a few blocks up," Logan told her.  
  
"I went in one of those in New York one time," Genevieve said with a touch of excitement.  
  
"Oooh, 'Genewieve', it's _green_," Monique announced happily now, jumping up and down.  
  
Logan was pondering the fact that it was one of the first snippets of information that Genevieve had volunteered about herself when, without warning, Monique became captivated by a small dog that someone walking the other way had on a leash. She turned excitedly, pulling away from Genevieve's hand, and ran full pelt back the way they'd come.  
  
Logan swung around immediately, calling, "_Monique!"_ only to look up in thanks as he saw that she'd run almost directly into the legs of a man in a suit who must have been walking a short way behind them.  
  
Genevieve ran back and grabbed her sister's hand, scolding her for pulling away like that.  
  
"She sure is fast," the man said as Logan wheeled up to them, the former still not relinquishing his hold on Monique's hand even though Genevieve now held the other one.  
  
"Sure is," Logan responded evenly, putting his uneasiness down to the fact that his worries about the child's speed had been well founded.  
  
"Maybe the streets are a bit dangerous for a little one this quick," the other man continued, his eyes resting briefly on the wheelchair. Something made Logan look at him more closely. Had he imagined the slight edge to the man's voice, and if so, was it intended as a threat or a warning?  
  
"Her sister's a lot quicker," Logan responded with a slight edge to his own words, having understood the part that had been discreetly left unsaid.  
  
The dark haired man looked at Logan for a second, then let go of Monique's hand, ruffling her hair as he did so, which made the child look up at him with an annoyed look and, to Logan's surprise, shake off Genevieve's hand as well to run over to him, hiding her face in his long legs.  
  
The dark haired man moved off without another word, this time crossing the street and heading in the opposite direction, much to Logan's relief, who now turned his attention to the blonde head on his knee.  
  
"Monique. You're gonna _have_ to hold Genevieve's hand," he told her, going for what he hoped was the 'friendly but firm' tone as he put a hand to her head, unconsciously doing what Monique had taken exception to but a minute ago.  
  
When the child neither answered nor moved, Logan began to wonder if she intended to stay in this position for hours. He looked around hopefully for Genevieve but found her gazing intently into the closest shop window. Logan had no way of knowing that hot tears were now welling up in Monique's eyes and spilling onto his leg.  
  
"_Monique,"_ he tried again, veering somewhere between a pleading tone and a stern one.  
  
This time the trembling shoulders gave her away, making Logan send up a quick desperate prayer that she wasn't going to throw a tantrum in the street as she had about the DVDs.  
  
Unexpectedly, a voice just behind Logan said, "Hey kids. So, you're all out enjoying the sunshine?"  
  
"_Max!"_ said both Genevieve and Monique excitedly when they heard her voice, the tears vanishing as quickly as they'd come.  
  
Logan leant back and looked up at Max, giving her a wry grin as the two girls threw their arms around her, almost knocking her bike out of her hands with their enthusiasm. "You timed it well," he said, then added a touch suspiciously, "Normal let you out early or something?"  
  
"Or something," Max shrugged with the hint of a challenge in her dark eyes before padlocking her bike to a nearby post.  
  
"Well, thank heavens for 'something'," Logan smiled with relief, surprising Max with the welcoming look he gave her.  
  
"Max, Logan's taking us to the department store!" Genevieve told her, grabbing Monique's hand back again. "And he promised to take us to the toys and let us pick something we wanted!"  
  
"Max come, too?" asked Monique hopefully.  
  
"Am I invited?" she asked Logan a touch coyly.  
  
Logan considered her for a moment before finally saying, "I think I may have room for you in my entourage."  
  
"Logan, can you buy something for Max as well?" Genevieve asked, having decided that it didn't seem fair for her and Monique to get something and not Max.  
  
_"Max_ can have anything she'd like from me," Logan said warmly, then felt himself reddening slightly as he realized what he'd just said  
  
Intuitively he knew that Max had come back on his behalf and, to his surprise, he felt a rush of warmth towards her for her thoughtfulness, rather than bristling with prickly outrage that she had doubted his capabilities.  
  
Max didn't seem to mind, though, as he found her somewhat provocative gaze resting on him.  
  
"Wow, I've been tryin' ta get that promise outta you since we met," she couldn't resist, having noted his discomfort and dazzling him with one of her smiles.  
  
Logan felt like he was getting a bit out of his depth at this point and quickly backed away. "We'd er, better get goin' if we wanna make it before closing time," he said, refusing to look at her as he quickly swung back around to continue their walk, therefore missing the thoughtful look on Max's face as she watched him for a moment.  
  
He pushed along in silence for a while, listening to Max chatting with the kids while he concentrated on avoiding the various holes and rubble and anything else that was a charming feature of post-Pulse Seattle. The thought came to him that this was probably not what Bling had in mind when he told him to rest his shoulder.  
  
"Whoa Logan, _hold up_," Max called to him suddenly. "Monique's getting tired."  
  
"Well, it's only another block," Logan told her a little breathlessly as he took a break himself, relaxing against the back of his chair.  
  
"We at the 'partment store?" Monique asked hopefully.  
  
"Sorry, sweetie, just a little way ta go. You want Max to carry you?"  
  
Monique nodded and put her arms up to be lifted but no sooner was she in Max's arms than she reached out her hands wordlessly to Logan, almost skydiving onto his lap as her body leaned forward in an arc towards him.  
  
Max threw Logan an amused smile, now juggling the weight of the child. "Hey, this morning I was their best friend – just what'd you do to them while I was gone?"  
  
"Well, I did let Monique jump on my bed," admitted Logan, "and I don't wanna brag _but _..." he finished by tapping the wheels pointedly on either side.  
  
"Obviously a big hit with the girls," Max laughed. "So, you gonna take her?"  
  
"Just set her down on my lap," Logan told her.  
  
Monique's face broke into a beaming smile when she realized she was going to get her way.  
  
Max carefully put her down on Logan's legs, wondering as she did where the thought had come from that she wouldn't mind sitting on his knee herself and hoping that Logan would put her heightened colour down to her bent position.  
  
Monique edged her way back until she was snug against his chest, then turned to Genevieve and Max and gave them a big wave.  
  
"_Go, Logan,"_ she ordered him peremptorily.  
  
"All she needs is a whip," he murmured to Genevieve and Max with a wry smile.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------- --------------  
  
Logan had hoped Genevieve wouldn't be disappointed in the department store. He knew from experience that it wasn't nearly as impressive as the ones that still existed in New York.  
  
It was now ten years since the Pulse had hit and most of the suburban malls still lay as empty wastelands. Initially they'd closed because there had been no utilities to serve them but by the time some semblance of power had returned, many of them had been looted and vandalized and there'd been no credit facilities, no electronic banking, no ATMs and on top of that, very few people who had any money to spend. It was hard to go to a bank and withdraw money when they no longer had any record that your account ever existed. The country had been in chaos – and to Logan's disgust, it still hadn't recovered.  
  
Now department stores were strictly for the privileged few who had somehow managed to keep their heads above water long enough to eventually take advantage of the situation, men like the 'Jonas Cales' of this world.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------- ---  
  
It wasn't a huge toy department, not like the ones Logan could remember from his childhood, anyway, when entire huge stores sold nothing but toys, but Genevieve and Monique certainly looked about them as if they were in the biggest toy store in the world.  
  
Monique was so entranced that she sat passively on Logan's lap as he wheeled about, while Genevieve kept saying, "_Wow,"_ at the various displays, each one invitingly set out to attract a child's attention.  
  
"Can I touch?" she asked breathlessly, looking at the shelves neatly set out, perhaps not with an abundance of toys but certainly with an abundance of quality.  
  
Logan grinned, remembering the havoc he had wrought on many a toy store. "Sure."  
  
Here were many of the brand name toys that the rest of the world still enjoyed en masse but which were now only available to the favoured few in post Pulse America.  
  
Even Max was amazed at the selection, both on the shelves and behind the glass cases where the more expensive items were kept safe from prying and thieving fingers.  
  
"You have all this stuff when you were a kid?" asked Max in some amazement and as he nodded his assent she raised her brows a little._ He really had been a spoiled rich kid.  
_  
Genevieve had wandered off to look at an ornate collection of music boxes, while Max followed Logan, with Monique still sitting quietly on his knee, to an elaborate collection of trains underneath a glass case. Max noticed dryly that none of it was priced. She supposed if you had to ask what the price was, you couldn't afford it.  
  
"_Trains,"_ Monique called out excitedly, pointing to the demonstration one that was chuffing around a track complete with stations, signals, tunnels and all other types of railway paraphernalia. She added her own little 'chuff chuff' noises as she bounced a little on Logan's knees.  
  
Logan stared at it intently.  
  
"My dad had one of these – _huge _set, took up a whole room," he told Max. She could see he was briefly remembering a different afternoon to the one he was experiencing now.  
  
"_Wow_."  
  
"A lot of it had been his dad's as well. He liked to run it Sunday afternoons."  
  
"Must've been fun," Max murmured, leaning over the case and watching his profile, wondering for the hundredth time what type of a child and teenager he must have been. Logan was incredibly guarded when it came to his own life. Everything she had learnt about him so far had only been gathered by the few morsels he dropped here and there. She remembered her surprise when she'd found out by accident that he'd been married only because she'd heard the message Val was leaving him on his answering machine. Of course, seeing him _squirm with_ _embarrassment_ had made the whole thing worthwhile.  
  
"Not really," admitted Logan, looking disarmingly guilty and wrinkling his nose a little at the memory. "Truth is all I wanted to do was play computer games."  
  
"So what else has changed?" she murmured provokingly.  
  
Logan gave her a quelling look, then his eyes became more reflective as he said, "Mom was always a bit disappointed that I wasn't more interested in it," leaving Max with the impression that perhaps what his mother had thought meant more to him.  
  
"So what happened to it?"  
  
Logan shrugged a little dismissively. "Pulled apart, then languished in a cupboard for some years before Mom eventually gave up on me and gave it to Bennet and his brothers. Maybe that's why Uncle Jonas doesn't like me," he added lightly as a sudden afterthought. "You know, all that breaking with tradition stuff, oldest son to oldest son, blah, blah, blah."  
  
"Jonas doesn't like you because the man's a _jerk,"_ Max told him bluntly, wondering if Logan had one of his weird notions that he should feel guilty about his failure to be the perfect son.  
  
"I'd better go see where Genevieve is," Max said, suddenly looking around.  
  
Logan thoughtfully turned his attention back to the trains, one arm hooked around Monique, lost for the moment somewhere between boyhood and manhood, when he heard Genevieve calling his name.  
  
"Hey, Max just went looking for you," he smiled turning his head around.  
  
Genevieve nodded then pointed towards her sister. "Logan, Monique wants to get down. She's kicking you - she always does that when she wants to get down."  
  
"Oh," he said lightly, noticing that Genevieve seemed to be looking at him a bit strangely as he removed his hand from the child and let her slip off his knee.  
  
"Now don't you wander off," he warned her, remembering how difficult she'd been to control in the early stages of their walk.  
  
"We'd better follow her," he grinned at Genevieve. "So, you see anything you like?"  
  
"Everything!" answered Genevieve enthusiastically, following Monique who made her way immediately to the doll section.  
  
At first the small child was reluctant to touch but once Logan told her she could there was no stopping her, making Logan have second thoughts about the wisdom of bringing a three year old to a toy store and now more glad than ever that Max had turned up – _the child may never want to leave.  
_  
"These are the most beautiful dolls I've _ever seen_," Genevieve was marvelling when Max returned. In her hand she held a soft-bodied baby doll that was so cleverly made it flopped in a relaxed way just like a real baby. There were two types to choose from, one of which had blonde hair and an exquisitely smocked pink dress, tights on her legs, and pale pink baby shoes made of leather. The face was adorable, the shape of the hands perfect – in short, Genevieve had never seen a more beautiful doll. Monique was holding the same type of doll, but hers had dark hair and her dress and accessories were a soft mint green.  
  
Max would never have called herself a 'girly girl' but even she was impressed.  
  
Genevieve looked shyly at Logan. "Do you think...?" she began hesitatingly. "They _are _very expensive," she added a little worriedly.  
  
Logan was just glad they'd finally made a decision. "If that's what you're happy with..." he agreed, unlocking his brakes to signify a done deal and they could now leave.  
  
"You sure you want a doll?" Max asked the older girl, wondering if perhaps she would have preferred one of the music boxes she had been so taken with earlier.  
  
"Well, I know I'm getting a little bit old for dolls but I've never seen _anything_ like this one. I'd like to keep her and maybe one day have a doll collection," then she added thoughtfully, "and this way Monique and I have something we can play with together."  
  
"Sounds like a plan to me," Logan assented, keen to leave now that a decision had been made.  
  
"Logan, we really need to get the girls some pyjamas, a change of clothes and underthings." This time Max spoke a little hesitantly – for all her earlier joking, she never asked Logan for anything unless he agreed to let her pay it back but, even though this was for the girls, she still felt a twinge of awkwardness.  
  
Logan looked at his watch. "We don't have much time before the store closes."  
  
"Why don't you take Genevieve with you and pay for the dolls and I'll take Monique with me and grab some clothes for them," Max suggested. "I can meet you at the front entrance."  
  
Logan pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket, then peeled off some bills and gave them to Max. "Will that be enough?" he asked, appreciating her wisdom in the way she'd divided the kids leaving him with Genevieve.  
  
"More than enough. I'll meet you outside soon," Max smiled, grabbing Monique's hand determinedly. The little thing wasn't happy to be parted from her doll but after some explaining, she seemed to finally understand that once they were out of the store, Max would give it back to her.  
  
------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------  
  
It didn't take long for Logan to pay for the dolls.  
  
The woman at the counter put each one in a large bag and even managed to talk Logan into buying some accessories for them such as blankets and a feeding set for each one.  
  
Genevieve's smile couldn't have been any wider by the time they'd paid for it all.  
  
Impulsively she threw her arms around Logan's neck. "Thanks, Logan. Wow, this is really something! I've never had anything like this - _ever!"_ She still sounded as though she couldn't believe it.  
  
Logan felt a little embarrassed. He didn't feel that spending his money on them, when he had an over abundance of it anyway, was deserving of her praise but he was glad she was happy.  
  
"Can you carry all that stuff?" he smiled at her, knowing intuitively that she would have no intention of giving up her spoils.  
  
Predictably she nodded her head.  
  
Logan checked his watch as they rode the elevator down to ground level. It was only a few minutes before closing time. They shouldn't have long to wait for Max.  
  
It was noticeably cooler and darker as they headed outside, making Logan glad that he'd insisted the girls bring their jackets.  
  
With a smile, he noticed Genevieve peeping in her bag every few minutes as if she couldn't believe what was in there.  
  
"We'd better wait here, out of the way," Logan told her, motioning with his head towards the store window. Once there he set his brakes and took his gloves out of his pocket.  
  
As he put them on he glanced up to see Genevieve watching him and gave her a quick grin.  
  
"How come you didn't know Monique was kicking you?" she asked suddenly, as though the question had been on her mind for some minutes.  
  
Logan was a bit surprised by his own lack of embarrassment as he admitted to her, "Because I couldn't feel it."  
  
"Cool," the child answered, impressed.  
  
Logan looked at her with a quizzical expression. It wasn't the response he'd expected but he was quickly learning to expect that lately.  
  
"There was this kid at my last school who kept kicking me," she explained, her face growing more and more incensed as she told him. "Every day he did the same thing - I had these gi-normous bruises all up my legs!"  
  
"Didn't you tell your teacher?"  
  
"_Nah_. She wouldn't do anything," she answered dismissively.  
  
Not wanting to break her bubble too much, Logan reminded her a touch wryly, "No feeling, no _walking_."  
  
The thought brought her up short. "That's not so cool," she admitted, then barely pausing a beat, added with the mercurial optimism of a child, "Still, a wheelchair must be heaps o' fun."  
  
Logan smiled a little at her innocence. _What child hadn't at some time or other thought a_ _wheelchair would be a fun toy._ Keeping his mouth shut, he didn't tell her just how quickly he had found the novelty wore off or how many unpleasant side issues there were that had to be dealt with on a daily basis.  
  
"Do you still get bruises?" Genevieve was asking with great interest now. Once she'd tested the water and found out he didn't bite, with the natural curiosity of a child she now wanted to know 'everything' about everything.  
  
Logan was beginning to wonder how big a hole he had dug for himself, reflecting a little curiously that no one had ever asked him these questions before. He was just wondering why they weren't as difficult to answer as he had half expected them to be when he happened to look across the road and instinctively froze.  
  
The man wore the same suit that still looked far too small for him and his face looked even uglier to Logan than he had remembered when the man had cornered him in the market three days ago. It was George, the goon from the market who'd snatched the envelope from Logan's knee – unmistakeably so. He was standing across the road but obviously intent on watching Logan.  
  
Logan felt a sudden leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach as he stole a quick glance at Genevieve, who was beginning to get the first inkling that there was something wrong when Logan hadn't replied. Looking quickly at him she'd seen his eyes behind his glasses suddenly narrow, his hands going instinctively to his brakes.  
  
"Is there something wrong, Logan?" she asked hesitantly.  
  
Logan's thoughts were racing. Quickly looking towards the door of the department store he grimaced when there was still no sign of Max, even though the store was now officially closed. A doorman stood on duty to ensure that no one tried to enter. Logan wondered briefly about spinning some tale about a missing child to get back inside when the man himself went inside and, to Logan's disquiet, bolted the glass doors.  
  
Logan shot another look across the street. 'George' was still there but Logan was beginning to feel horribly exposed as he looked around and realized that he and Genevieve were now the only ones waiting on this side of the street for the whole block. Once the store had closed, it was as if everybody had simply disappeared.  
  
This was not good.  
  
He could feel an avalanche of hot coals being poured onto his head – courtesy of his own conscience. _What were you thinking bringing the girls out when you knew there was the possibility of trouble?  
  
_It was doing absolutely nothing in helping him formulate a plan.  
  
He looked towards the door again, vainly hoping that Max would appear, but there was still no sign of her.  
  
"Logan?" Genevieve was beginning to sound worried.  
  
_"Grab your bags,"_ Logan told her tensely. "I think we may have to play a little game of hide and seek," he told her with a touch of a smile, trying to sound a little more light-hearted than he felt.  
  
With big eyes, the child obediently picked up her treasures and waited for Logan to tell her what to do as she watched him take his phone out.  
  
Hoping that it would send an alarm to Max, he rang her pager, then put his phone back in his pocket, all the while carefully watching the traffic that went by and the man in the suit across the way, who was presently still staring across at them. It bothered Logan that he was doing it far less surreptitiously than he had been a few minutes ago.  
  
"Okay, Genevieve," Logan murmured, his teeth gripping his bottom lip as he waited tensely, "when I say 'go' I want you to head down that alley next to us. There's a man across the way who might want to cause ...a little trouble," he finished vaguely.  
  
"What should I do then?"  
  
"I want you to run as fast as you can and when you get down to the end, go into one of the shops if they're open or find a good place to hide outside. But you have to be quick. You won't have much time."  
  
"I don't wanna leave you," she said at once, scared both for herself and for him.  
  
"Listen, Max or I will come and get you. I promise."  
  
_"Logan_ ..."  
  
At that moment, two huge trucks rumbled slowly by. Logan grabbed her hand and gave it a shake and yelled, "_Run!"_ at her.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, she did as she was told, gripping tightly to her bags and heading down the small road as fast as she could, her eyes wildly searching for a good place to hide.  
  
That done, Logan had to decide what to do next. His first thought had been to give Genevieve as much of a head start as he could. He just wished he knew for sure if George was after him or the children. How could he be sure of anything? Nothing had made sense the last few days.  
  
He forced his mind into some semblance of calm, his hands poised on the wheels of his chair, gripping tightly. Logan shot a look around again hopefully – _okay_, he told himself, _no good wishing for Max to magically appear. Let's just do it.  
_  
Making up his mind, he headed in the direction Genevieve had run just as the end of the second truck finished lumbering by. He couldn't leave the child to fend for herself if by chance George went after her and not him.  
  
Logan gave a quick glance across the road. He didn't need X5 eyesight to see that George was unhappy about the present developments. He now stood at the curb, his eyes boring into Logan as he waited for a break in the traffic so he could cross the road.  
  
Pushing himself as fast as he could, Logan headed down the narrow street, keeping to the edge of the road as there was no sidewalk.  
  
Squinting ahead, he looked vainly for Genevieve. "_Thank God,"_ he murmured gratefully when he could see no sign of her.  
  
The right hand side of the road simply bordered the wall of the department store they'd just spent such a pleasant time in. The left side seemed to be a few ramshackle stores and a closed coffee shop. Nothing looked particularly open this time of night.  
  
Logan pushed on, wondering how far he'd get before George caught up to him, thinking it was a pity it was so damned hard to hide a bulky thing like a wheelchair with him in it when he suddenly stopped, his own short breaths sounding unnaturally loud in the stillness of the early evening.  
  
Just a few hundred yards away he could hear the intermittent sound of traffic, revving engines, the odd distant car horn and, somewhere nearer at hand, perhaps above him in one of the buildings, a heavy bass line thumped to the latest tune.  
  
He closed his eyes for a second as the inevitability of his situation hit him, then swung slowly around.  
  
As he'd expected, George was now approaching him, gun at the ready, only a matter of ten yards away. _Either the man was an Olympic runner or I'm just slow_, Logan thought dryly. He'd hoped he would have had a little more time, a few more seconds to think, a few more seconds to prepare himself. _Max, where are you?  
  
_Twisting a little, he looked towards the second man, dressed in a suit, who now purposefully blocked off the other end of the street. It was this man that Logan had seen a few seconds ago, the 'decider' in Logan's decision to give up the race.

_Well, I might as well get my breath,_ Logan sighed resignedly, noticing that his mouth seemed to have suddenly become very dry.  
  
He'd stopped outside the closed coffee shop. It was hard to tell if it was closed permanently or closed for the night because there was the inevitable pile of cardboard boxes and other trash out in front of it.  
  
"Well, George. It's certainly a surprise to see you in these parts," Logan drawled calmly, keeping his back to the coffee shop so that he could see in both directions.  
  
George said nothing.  
  
Logan looked up at him, watching the gun he held in his hand warily and keeping his own hands in clear view by resting them on his wheels. He didn't want George to get the wrong idea.  
  
Finally George stopped about five feet away. His face impassive, _and ugly_, thought Logan.  
  
Logan swung a quick glance the other direction. It filled him with no confidence at all to see that the second man appeared to have disappeared.  
  
"Where's ze girl?" asked George in a slightly clipped, unmistakably foreign accent.  
  
The question caught Logan by surprise. He'd convinced himself that this was all about Martin and Emma Belding's vanishing act.  
  
Something of his unease must have shown in his face because George came forward another few steps, now within arms length of Logan. He wondered wildly if it would do any good to lunge out and try to grab the gun but the thought of landing flat on his face didn't inspire him. The chair wasn't great as far as a fast getaway went but it was definitely preferable to his only alternative without it.  
  
"Ze girl" George repeated.  
  
"You asked that already," Logan reminded him, resisting the urge to wheel back as George took another step towards him. He wasn't a tall man but at close quarters he was more than threatening enough for Logan's peace of mind.  
  
"Ze gun does a lot of damage zis close," George told him. "But perhaps you know zis already ... _yes_?"  
  
This time Logan stiffened instinctively. "Oh yeah, I know 'zis'," he acknowledged, his eyes hard.  
  
"Give me ze girl, and you are free to go," the muscle bound man said reasonably.  
  
"It's a generous offer," Logan agreed, "but ..." and he made a face as if considering the matter, "I don't think so."  
  
For a man with so many muscles bunched under the one suit, it certainly didn't seem to affect his speed or freedom of movement, Logan thought wryly as his head snapped back a little from the stinging backhand.  
  
It was precisely at this moment that it appeared to Logan as if someone had hit the fast forward button.  
  
Logan looked up from the blow, his senses spinning a little from the force of it and the fact that it was in the same spot as his bruise from two days ago. The first thing he saw was the blur of colour beside him and he realized that Genevieve had run out from her hiding place, which had apparently been amongst the discarded coffee shop boxes, crying and saying, "No, no."  
  
George now looked at her with a wolf-like stare, then slowly began to bring his gun up.  
  
Barely having time to register the ramifications of all this, something made Logan dart a look around for the second man who'd entered the alley. To his horror he saw a man, he now recognized as the man whom Monique had run into, lifting a gun with the obvious intention of firing it.  
  
"Oh, God," Logan ground out, desperately throwing himself sideways at Genevieve and bringing them both to the ground as the sound of two quick reports shattered the air.  
  
Running footsteps came closer. Logan faced the inevitable and lifted himself onto his elbows, then quickly put a hand on Genevieve's head, saying quickly, "Don't look. _Close your eyes."_  
  
George had been ugly in life – in death he was even more so. The staring startled eyes added a grotesqueness that had not been there whilst the man still breathed.  
  
Logan looked away from the face with distaste, then braced himself for whatever was about to happen as he looked at the pair of highly polished black shoes that came into his range of vision.  
  
He was about to look up at the face of the man in front of him, which wasn't easy from his sprawled position on the roadway, when a black shadow came out of nowhere. Logan looked up just in time to see the owner of the black polished shoes collapse to the ground, only to be dragged up one more time by Max, who delivered a jaw breaking right hook that ensured he went down and would be down for a considerable time.  
  
Max stepped forward, surveying the scene – her gaze sweeping both of them. Logan met her eyes as he shifted on his elbows uncomfortably while Genevieve obediently kept her head down.  
  
"Keep your head down, Genevieve," she said calmly as she stripped George of his jacket and covered his face and the tell tale red stain on his left breast.  
  
"There, you can hop up now," she said, getting down on her haunches to stroke the girl's hair. Genevieve knelt up and clung to Max, burying her face in Max's shoulder.  
  
"You okay?" she asked Logan with raised brows as he lowered his head for the moment.  
  
"Ground's kinda hard," he hinted, then looked around suddenly. "Where's Monique?"  
  
"She's cool. I left her with the store security guard. Figured you were in some kinda trouble when I got your page."  
  
Max gently pulled Genevieve away from her and helped her up. "I gotta help Logan. Why don't you grab your bags?"  
  
At the thought of her doll, the child brightened the tiniest bit and nodded, turning to retrieve them.  
  
"Not quite what I had in mind when you suggested a shopping trip," Max remarked to Logan as she righted his chair and brought it over for him.  
  
He looked a little pale. _I guess being shot at has that kind of affect on most people_, she thought dryly.  
  
"You okay to do this?" she asked, hiding her concern.  
  
"Sure," grunted Logan as he turned over in readiness to haul himself into the chair. "Why don't you check who our friends are," he suggested, pausing a moment to gather his strength.  
  
Max took the hint and turned away, checking through George's pockets first. Nothing.  
  
The second man, who she had brought to the ground, still hadn't moved. She quickly checked his pulse and found it steady and strong. "Well, this guy's gonna live to fight another day," she told Logan without looking around.  
  
Next she attacked the man's pockets.  
  
He wasn't nearly as secretive as the dead man had been. In fact, anything but.  
  
"Look at this," she said to Logan, coming to stand in front of him, a small black folder about the size of a credit card in her hand.  
  
She waited for him to put his feet on the footrest, then handed it over.  
  
Logan recognized it at once.  
  
"Max, you knocked out an FBI agent," he said quietly.  
  
TBC


	13. Similarities

Many thanks as always for the encouraging reviews! They are so appreciated.  
  
My special thanks to Alaidh as always for her thoroughness and clever suggestions as she betas.  
  
Chapter 13  
  
The first blasts from a chill wind swept with searching fingers down the narrow road, annoyingly tugging at the girls' jackets and whipping their hair into their faces.  
  
Max held her dark waves back with one hand as she cast a slightly anxious look skyward.  
  
Logan caught sight of her movement.  
  
"Max, get the kids outta here. Take 'em back to my place," he told her as he leaned over, one hand holding onto the wheel of his chair as he slipped the FBI man's ID back into his pocket. Looking up and catching her expression he added insistently, "I'll follow."  
  
"Yeah, right," was her only comment as, without a word, she headed back down the muddy road to the main street. Sometimes she wondered what kind of a genetically engineered girl he thought she was.  
  
She didn't have long to wait for what she wanted.  
  
It obligingly slowed for the approaching traffic lights immediately in front of where she stood and from that point on it didn't budge. It's kind of hard to drive a car when someone has an arm through your window, their elbow tucked snugly against your throat.  
  
The cab had one passenger.  
  
"End of the line," snapped Max to a slightly greying middle-aged businessman in a pin stripe suit.  
  
"This is outrageous!" he spluttered at her. "_You can't do this_."  
  
"I can and I just _did_," she contradicted him smartly.  
  
The lights ahead were about to change to green any moment.  
  
"Listen, I'm under a considerable time restraint here. Are you gonna get out nicely or am I gonna hafta send a bit of encouragement _to your ass_?"  
  
A tiny bit more pressure to the cab driver's throat made him croak to his passenger, "Just do as she says, will yah!"  
  
With a disgruntled look, the businessman picked up his briefcase and got out, muttering a string of oaths about what the world had come to.  
  
"Mister, if being kicked outta your cab is the very worst thing that happens to today, then consider yourself lucky," Max called after him before turning her attention back to the ashen-faced driver.  
  
Max brought her face close to his olive skinned one. The smell of garlic and stale tobacco that emanated from his open pores was almost overwhelming.  
  
"I got a new fare for you." She opened the back passenger door and hopped in. "Turn right at the next road."  
  
The man nodded mutely. He'd learnt a long time ago that it paid to keep your mouth shut.  
  
Max could see Genevieve standing next to Logan in front of the two men who were lying on the muddy road. Genevieve was jumping up and down a bit to stay warm, while Logan sat with his arms folded tightly across his chest.  
  
The child was still tightly clutching her bags.  
  
As the cab drew up in front of them, Max saw her smile widely at something Logan had said. He was obviously going to a lot of effort to keep her mind from the dead body lying not six feet away from her.  
  
As soon as the cab slowed, Max got out and called to Logan that she was getting Monique.  
  
Logan followed her movements with his eyes, surprised to see her disappear into a side entrance of the department store that he hadn't realized was there as the dull brown of the door simply merged into the dull brown of the brick wall. It explained her sudden timely appearance not so long ago.  
  
"Let's get warm," he suggested to Genevieve, wondering how the child was coping with the unexpected horror of the afternoon and hoping strongly that she hadn't seen the image of George and his staring, sightless eyes. _I'd like to forget it myself,_ Logan thought with a grimace as he pushed his way through the mud towards the cab, glad that he'd thought to wear his gloves as he fastidiously looked at the mess caked to the tyres of his chair.  
  
Wheeling the short distance to the cab, he opened the back passenger door and motioned for her to get in the back with a quick encouraging grin. He made sure she was in and settled comfortably, her bags by her feet, before hoisting himself into the front passenger seat and beginning the task of dismantling his wheelchair. He had tried not to convey it to the child but he felt a certain amount of urgency. He didn't want to be around when the FBI agent woke up and he certainly didn't want to be around when George was discovered.  
  
Logan saw the cab driver glance towards the two figures lying on the roadway and almost immediately turn away again. _See no evil_... thought Logan dryly as he looked up to see Max returning with Monique on one hip and her shopping bags in the opposite hand. She was talking brightly to the child, carefully diverting her attention from the bloodied roadway.  
  
"We good to go?" she called to Logan as she popped the three year old into the middle seat belt in the back.  
  
On Logan's nod she went around to the back of the cab, looking up with annoyance as a huge drop of rain plopped on her nose, only to be quickly followed by another one that landed on her hand. She rapped sharply on the trunk to grab the driver's attention and was about to put her fist through it when it sluggishly opened as the catch was released. Doing her best to avoid the mud on the wheels, she grabbed the pieces of his chair from his open doorway and quickly stowed them away, keen to get out of the now steady downpour.  
  
Once the driver had roused himself and popped the trunk, he turned to Logan, saying through tobacco stained teeth, "Where're ya headin'?" his glance taking in the bags stowed by Genevieve's feet featuring in bold print the name of the department store.  
  
"Four blocks up. 17875 Mayfield Avenue," Logan told him as he half turned in his seat to watch Max close the trunk with a force that made the car lurch. He felt guilty that she was getting wet on his behalf.  
  
_"Four blocks?"_ the driver queried incredulously. "She dumped my hundred dollar fare for a thirty dollar one? An' all I get outta it is mud all over my clean seats," he remonstrated, all the while casting a shrewd eye over the quality of Logan's clothing and the mud that covered it. "It's gonna cost me big money to clean all this."  
  
Hearing the tail end of his sentence as she got in the back next to Monique, Max looked at him with disgust. "You rip off _all_ your passengers?"  
  
Only interested in getting out of there as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, Logan stripped off his gloves and shoved them into one of his jacket pockets, then pulled out his wallet and quickly peeled off a few large bills. "I think this oughta soften the blow."  
  
Max was incensed. "You're rewarding him for being a _thief_?"  
  
"I thought you told me once it was 'commerce'," he couldn't resist reminding her with a touch of annoyance that she'd question his methods. He hadn't questioned hers.  
  
To the driver, he said impatiently, "Just get going."  
  
Without needing to be told twice, the driver reversed at a speed Logan considered far too fast for safety. _Great, we survive a shooting but not a four-block trip in a cab to my apartment.  
_  
"Okay kids," Max said quietly to the girls, "I want you to put your head down as far as you can and we're gonna pretend that Logan is travelling in the cab all by himself."  
  
Monique grinned but Max could see by the look on Genevieve's face that she knew it wasn't a game.  
  
"Just in case," Max assured her confidently from her own position, half lying on Monique so that she could keep the child's head down easily.  
  
"What about Logan?" the older child asked, her worried expression still evident as she dropped her head to her lap with childish dexterity.  
  
"Well, he lives here, so I figure it's safe for him to be seen."  
  
The cab driver apparently found nothing amiss in the fact that all his passengers in the back were hiding themselves from view and merely nodded when Logan gave him directions.  
  
They made it back to Logan's apartment without further mishap. Logan instructed the driver to go into the underground parking garage and let them off by the elevator so they could avoid being seen.  
  
"I want my doll," Monique insisted loudly as soon as they stopped.  
  
Max nodded at Genevieve before she got out to retrieve Logan's chair from the trunk. She, frustrated with the driver's stupidity, thumped on the trunk lid with enough force to cause another dent in the already battered cab when the he did not release the latch right away.  
  
Frowning slightly, she pulled out the wheels and, without a word to Logan, took them over to the faucet and hose, quickly removing the sticky mud. _Much better for his pristine floors_, she thought.  
  
"I haven't got all day y' know," the cab driver grumbled when she came back.  
  
"For someone who's being paid at least five times what the fare is worth, I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you," Max snapped back at him with enough of a threatening tone in her voice to make the man positively cower as she handed the pieces to Logan for him to assemble.  
  
Monique was happily cuddling her baby now and docilely got out of the car when Max opened the door and held out a hand towards her. A subdued Genevieve followed.  
  
Max led them both to the elevator, waiting for Logan to come before she pressed the 'up' button.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------- -----------------  
  
Logan wheeled in and switched the light on, instantly bathing the penthouse in warm, soft hues, then continued on purposefully through to his computer.  
  
Max looked at the girls. She was concerned with Genevieve's reaction to the afternoon's drama but both girls managed to give her a smile.  
  
"Why don't you go take your new things into the bedroom and set them up there?" she suggested, keen to have some private words with Logan. She added to Genevieve, "But maybe you'd better strip off your dirty clothes and take a shower. Here," she told the ten year old, holding out the bags with the necessities she'd bought for them. "Better put your pyjamas on."  
  
They both nodded brightly at her before heading off to the guest room.  
  
"Any news?" Max asked Logan as she walked through to his study, drawing the computer chair a little closer to where he sat in front of his large screen, having quickly checked through his emails.  
  
"Nope," he answered disgustedly, leaning back and absently running his hands over his still damp wheels.  
  
"Logan, we gotta talk. What is it with this FBI guy showing up and who was the dead whacko?"  
  
"I don't have all the answers, Max," he told her evenly.  
  
She shrugged one shoulder. "I'd be happy with just one at this point."  
  
He looked about suddenly. "Where'd the girls go?"  
  
"They're cool. I sent them to their room to play with all their new things. So how does it feel to play Santa?" she added with the hint of a smile.  
  
"I'm hardly Santa," he told her a little tersely, unlocking his brakes and wheeling through to the kitchen.  
  
He didn't feel that he could cope with her intimacy. Not now.  
  
Max stood up and followed him with another shrug – she assumed he'd fill her in on all that went down later - then stopped short as she looked at his kitchen.  
  
She'd never seen Logan's kitchen in this state before.  
  
_"Wow,_ so you had a tornado come through here?" she asked him, not quite sure if he'd be offended if she laughed.  
  
"_Two_, actually. The girls and I did a little 'cooking'," he added, somewhat needlessly.  
  
"I see." Max smiled this time.  
  
"Things got a little messy," Logan continued, wheeling forward and grabbing the cloth he'd tossed into the sink when Martin had been there. He turned the tap on and let the water run over his hand, feeling it slowly become increasingly hotter while his eyes followed Max as she strode around the declared disaster area.  
  
"What's this?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at the sticky mess in front of the refrigerator.  
  
"Ah, Monique thought she'd test the laws of gravity with a couple of eggs," he told her, quickly pulling his hand away and turning off the faucet as the water began to burn.  
  
"It worked, I see," she replied, turning around to face him.  
  
"You got another o' those?" Max asked with a nod towards the cloth in his hands. "Or better still, let me take that one while you go and get cleaned up. You're still wearing most of the mud from that street," she told him.  
  
Logan looked down at his clothing a little ruefully.  
  
"Why do you think we didn't wanna be seen with you in the car," Max joked.  
  
She wasn't sure why, but she felt a need to joke with him, to lighten the mood. Her instincts told her that there was something bothering him.  
  
Logan looked up at her for a moment as if he was going to say something, but instead he cleared his throat a little and merely said, "Thanks."  
  
Max took the cloth he held out to her and immediately started on the nearest counter. As soon as Logan's back was towards her, though, she watched him with a thoughtful expression as he slowly wheeled towards his bedroom.  
  
With Logan the line between 'fine' and 'not fine' could be a very slim margin.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------- ----------  
  
"Max, _look at me_!" Monique announced proudly, doll in hand, freshly showered and gleaming from head to toe and dressed in her new pyjamas.  
  
Genevieve followed closely behind her.  
  
"You make a good 'mom'," Max complimented the older child, her conscience pricking her a little that she'd been lost in her own thoughts while she cleaned the kitchen instead of thinking about the needs of the children.  
  
"I smell pretty?" Monique asked with her arms outstretched to be picked up.  
  
"Mm hmm, like a rose," Max told her, enjoying the sensation for the moment of holding the child close to her.  
  
"Logan has real toothpaste!" Genevieve told Max, greatly impressed, which made Max smile because she'd been impressed herself the first time she'd seen it.  
  
"I guess you kids must be kinda hungry by now," Max asked them, not surprised when they both nodded vigorously.  
  
She wondered how long Logan would be.  
  
Hoping she was doing the right thing, she made an executive decision and walked through to his study where she picked up the phone and ordered pizza.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
By the time Logan emerged from his room, Max and the girls had set the table and the pizza had arrived.  
  
He'd sat in the shower for a long time, wrapped in the solitude of his own thoughts, only vaguely aware of the water cascading over his shoulders and arms before it descended to the void that was his lower half.  
  
Max wanted answers.  
  
_Well so do I,_ he thought grimly as his leant forward and checked his legs with well practised efficiency, discovering the fresh patch of bruises, a souvenir of the afternoon's entertainment.  
  
Somewhere amongst the steam and the bruises and the water he came to two decisions.  
  
Firstly, the shoes in the white bag had to go.  
  
They were a liability, a miasma that corrupted his peace.  
  
_I'm gonna ask Bling to get them down first thing in the morning, and throw them in the garbage_.  
  
His second decision he would have to break to Max - _after _the kids had gone to bed.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------  
  
Logan was slightly taken aback by the exuberant reception he received from the two girls, who greeted him with calls to see their 'babies' asleep on the couch, and by the sight of Max bringing a hot pizza to the dining table.  
  
"The girls were hungry," she explained calmly, noting the ironic lift of his brows as she let him precede her to the table. "They couldn't wait for a Cale masterpiece."  
  
She didn't want to admit to him that it hadn't been about the girls but rather a desire on her part to be of assistance in some way, to do something that might make his day that little bit easier, and maybe, somewhere deep down, she wanted him to know that she cared.  
  
Her smile firmly in place, she waited for his comment as he wheeled up to the place the girls had set him at the table and set his brakes.  
  
"Smells good," he smiled up at Max as she set the pizza down on a hotplate.  
  
"Logan, may I pour you some water?" Genevieve asked in her most polite voice as she stood at his right. She looked at Max for confirmation and received the slightest of nods.  
  
Logan looked at Max suspiciously. Her eyes seemed overly bright.  
  
"Genevieve has offered to be 'waitress' for the night," she explained.  
  
"Wow. I could do with one of those," he smiled at the girl, still not entirely sure what was behind Max's mirth. "I'd love some water."  
  
Genevieve carefully poured some into a glass from the carafe on the table and handed it to him with as serious a face as if she'd been serving an expensive wine.  
  
"Thank you," Logan told her seriously, but with the faintest glimmer of humour behind the steel framed glasses as his eyes darted fleetingly towards Max's brown ones.  
  
Watching him, Max noted yet again how unassumingly charming he could be when he wanted to.  
  
"Logan. Look. We got _candles!"_ Monique, who was seated once more on his expensive books with a cushion, told him with her childish glee, then she unexpectedly turned to him and asked in a thoughtful manner, "Are you grumpy?"  
  
"Noo," Logan replied cautiously, wondering where that question had come from.  
  
"_Max said ..."_  
  
"You should eat some pizza, Monique," Max cut in quickly. "Here, let me cut some up for you," she added, keeping her head well down as she concentrated intently on the task.  
  
"Would you like some pizza?" Genevieve asked, still in waitress mode as she offered Logan the plate.  
  
"Great," he smiled up at her, a little surprised to see a distinctive blush of deep pink sweep over her fair features. "You'd better sit down and eat some yourself before Max eats it all," he told her, glancing at Max to see if she would rise to the bait.  
  
He wasn't entirely sure why, but his instincts told him he owed Max a dig or two.  
  
Max took the remark calmly, smiling across at him. She was enjoying Genevieve's performance too much to cross swords with Logan.  
  
She knew he was suspicious, but it struck her as ironic that Eyes Only could sniff out a bad guy a mile away but have no idea when a ten-year-old girl had a crush on him. Well, the child had good taste – and if it helped to keep her mind off the afternoon's ugly events, then Max was more than happy.  
  
Maybe it would take Logan's mind off whatever it was that bothered him.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------- ------------  
  
"Bedtime, girls," Max finally called to them from the kitchen where, with some help from Genevieve, she'd washed up the few plates and glasses they'd used.  
  
They'd managed to call Logan away from his computer long enough to show him the intricacies of feeding babies.  
  
He'd set his chair next to the couch and was doing a good job of looking suitably impressed even though his mind was firmly fixed on other things.  
  
"I don't wanna go to bed, Logan," Monique told him with a hint of rebellion as she stood on the couch, one small hand resting on his shoulder.  
  
"Monique, you pick up your baby and I'll put your other things back in the bag," her sister told her.  
  
This suggestion didn't go down at all well. Monique looked suddenly distraught as she saw her things apparently disappearing.  
  
"Hey, why don't you put your things in this other bag," Logan suggested quickly, hoping to divert another drama as he leant forward and held another one open for her.  
  
Monique looked at it for a moment, then the sun came out on her face unexpectedly and she quite happily deposited all her bits and pieces in the bag.  
  
Once she was finished, she stood up on the couch again and said, "Night, Logan," then added proudly, "There's Monique" as she saw herself reflected in his glasses.  
  
Suddenly she put a hand up to his cheek, running it over his three-day's growth. Her nose wrinkled a little as she said, "Scratchy."  
  
"Good night, Logan," Genevieve said a little shyly as she came forward and picked up her sister's bag.  
  
"You coming, girls?" Max called again.  
  
"Night," they both said to him again before running out to where Max waited for them near the kitchen, leaving Logan thoughtfully looking after them, absently rubbing a hand over his jaw.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
"Girls asleep?" Logan asked Max as she strolled into his study, only to pace a little restlessly around the confined space.  
  
"Monique is," Max answered. She stopped to pick up a newspaper lying on the desk opposite his computer, only to discard it after merely glancing at it, then resumed her pacing.  
  
"Might as well choose the living room if you're gonna pace. Windows are good - eight paces, if I remember right, before you've gotta turn," he told her, not taking his eyes from his screen.  
  
"You're legs are a lot longer than mine," Max replied distractedly, then looked up quickly at him as she realized belatedly what the discussion had been about, but Logan had swung around at her and smiled saying, "In that case, I'd estimate ten."  
  
Max looked across at him, her gaze searching, intent.  
  
Logan met her stare for a moment, then pushed on towards the living room, not stopping until he was at the windows.  
  
"Well that's a change!" he uttered in sarcastic surprise.  
  
"It's raining!" Max completed for him.  
  
He looked up at her with a sudden warmth in his eyes.  
  
"So, how's the shoulder?" she asked quickly.  
  
He shrugged a little. "Not so bad. Bling's comin' over later." He shifted his gaze back to the rain.  
  
"So, do you have a theory, Darwin?" Max tried, coming forward to sit on one of the chairs at the dining table. "I'm kinda intrigued to know why an FBI agent would be taking an interest in you," _and wondering if it has anything to do with Eyes Only_, was her unspoken fear.  
  
"Not in me," Logan told her. "I think he was interested in the girls."  
  
Max couldn't hide the look of surprise on her face.  
  
"Well, who was the whack-job who got rolled?"  
  
"George."  
  
Max looked impressed. "So you two were on a first name basis?"  
  
"He's the one who took Bryan Burke's envelope from me at the market."  
  
"He came to his just desserts, then," Max commented, well satisfied.  
  
"Max, _he_ wanted the girls, too."  
  
She looked at Logan intently. "I'm not exactly happy about that," she admitted quietly, unseeingly watching the streaming water on his windows.  
  
"Max, I'm getting them outta town."  
  
She swung her gaze back to him quickly at that. "You think that's wise?"  
  
"We need to get them safely out of Seattle until this whole thing is sorted out," he told her decisively.  
  
"What's wrong with keeping them safely here?"  
  
She saw a look in his eyes she couldn't interpret. He's hiding something from me, she knew instinctively.  
  
"It's not safe enough. We were found too easily today."  
  
Logan let his brakes off and swung around. Discussion ended.  
  
_"They were watching the building this morning."_  
  
Max's quiet words made him stop and swing around to her.  
  
"You saw them?" he asked in some amazement.  
  
She nodded her head, not looking at him, her mind recreating almost in slow motion her actions that morning as she'd waited at the roadside for a break in the traffic.  
  
Her eyes had seen the only the cars but her mind had recorded the picture of a musclebound man in a tight suit reading a newspaper across the way.  
  
She'd looked to the right before moving onto the road, her thoughts on Logan but her mind registering the man in a suit leaning up against the apartment block wall.  
  
She looked across at Logan. Her large, dark eyes pools of guilt.  
  
"I didn't realize it at the time," she stammered out.  
  
Logan shrugged. He missed things like that all the time.  
  
"I should have seen them. I should have stayed," she told him coldly.  
  
_Head in the clouds...judgement clouded.  
_  
Zack's words came back to taunt her, all the more painful because of their accuracy.  
  
"Anyway, I'm gonna arrange for them to stay with some contacts out in the country if you'll take them for me," Logan had continued a little stiltedly.  
  
Bringing her focus back to him, she frowned suddenly. "I don't think that's the best thing for them."  
  
This time she watched his expression carefully. She wasn't surprised to see the closed look come over his features before he swung around again.  
  
"Their safety isn't the best thing for them?" he asked in a detached manner..  
  
Max stood up and followed him as he headed to his study.  
  
"Logan, they've been through a lot. Genevieve had someone killed in front of her this afternoon. We just can't shove them off to people they don't know. You have no idea what effect that may have on them."  
  
"Well, I'd rather they were a little upset for a few days rather than anything more _permanent,"_ he told her, trying to keep his voice even.  
  
"Logan, I don't trust _anyone else_ to protect them," she stated categorically.  
  
He turned to his screen, apparently directing all his attention to the information in front of him.  
  
Max walked across to the open partition closest to his desk. She wanted to see his face.  
  
"Logan," she repeated, this time a little gentler, a little more reasoning, "the girls feel safe here, especially Genevieve. She's put her trust in me ..._in you_."  
  
"Yeah, well that's her _first mistake_," he snapped unexpectedly.  
  
Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered another conversation, almost another lifetime ago, between two very different people. It scared her a little to realize that her words could cause almost as much pain as any fighting move that had been drilled into her with such thoroughness and precision.  
  
Had Manitcore taught her to be so cruel? Or maybe it was just who she was, the real Max speaking, and the other one was an impostor just pretending to be nice, to care, to worry.  
  
How could he make her feel ashamed of something she'd said months ago?  
  
"_Logan..."_  
  
The opening of the front door interrupted her and she had to swallow her words as Bling came in.  
  
"Hey people. Am I interrupting something?" he asked, looking from one to the other ironically.  
  
"No, your timing is perfect," Logan stated, refusing to look up at Max as he released his brakes.  
  
Her eyes met Bling's for an instant before she said lightly, "Well, I'll leave you two boys to it."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------- --------------  
  
Logan closed his eyes as he lay prone on the exercise table, his head turned to one side, slowly letting the tensions of the day ease from his muscles as Bling's deft hands worked their magic.  
  
The therapist's muscles were clearly defined as he unerringly found each kink and knot to be worked on,  
  
He smiled a little as he felt Logan almost completely relax, probably somewhere in a world between sleep and consciousness.  
  
_The rest'll do him some good_, he thought to himself.  
  
----------------------------------------------------- ------  
  
_Logan watched the woman pacing, brown hair falling forward over her eyes.  
  
He felt tense himself, uncertain. To be honest, plain scared.  
  
What did he know about doing this, anyway?  
  
The self-doubt that was gnawing at him made his hands sweaty, his stomach churning sickeningly with the unrelieved tension.  
  
Well, tomorrow it will all be over with, one way or the other, he told himself bracingly.  
  
God, don't let anything happen to the child, he prayed silently, his conscience murky and troubled.  
  
Was it all worth it? If something should go wrong, would it be worth it?  
  
The sudden sound of a child crying loudly startled him. He looked at the woman.  
  
"Is that crying?" she asked him worriedly.  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Sophy's scared."  
  
_ ---------------------------------------------------------------- ------------  
  
Max had picked up the phone when she'd heard Matt Sung's voice on the answering machine, hoping he'd have something for them to go on.  
  
Cautious as ever, Matt had said, "Have Logan call me when he's available."  
  
It sounded hopeful, thought Max as she went around to the exercise room to tell him, but closed her mouth as she saw Bling's cautionary shake of his head.  
  
"He's just drifted off," he mouthed to her silently.  
  
Max nodded. Her message could wait a few minutes, she mused as she watched Bling's movements with fascination, but her thoughts weren't on the therapist's stunning physique.  
  
She looked at Logan. Asleep and without his glasses there was an air of vulnerability about him that he would never let her see when he was awake  
  
Max turned her head without warning, waiting to see if the noise would stop.  
  
"Is that crying?" Bling asked, stopping his ministrations for the moment as he listened.  
  
Logan opened his eyes as if in answer.  
  
"Sophy's scared," he said clearly.  
  
Max looked at him.  
  
"You mean _Genevieve,"_ she corrected him gently.  
  
She saw him look across to where her voice had come from, meeting her gaze with surprise as the last vestiges of sleep slipped from him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You said 'Sophy' – you meant Genevieve."  
  
"Right," he murmured, still looking a little confused as he shifted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
The crying got louder rather than diminishing. "I better go check on her," Max murmured as she turned and left.  
  
Logan closed his eyes again. He felt betrayed by his own stupidity.  
  
"We all done here?" he asked Bling a little shortly.  
  
"How does it feel?" countered his therapist.  
  
Logan moved his shoulders a little. "From this position, pretty good."  
  
"Okay, let's get you up, then."  
  
------------------------------------------------ ----------  
  
Genevieve held fast to Max, her sobbing finally coming under control.  
  
Max stroked her fair hair soothingly. "Everything's gonna be all right," she promised, glancing down at Monique's cherubic features as she slept peacefully and untroubled with none of her sister's awareness.  
  
"Will you and Logan find my mom and dad?" the child asked through her tears.  
  
"We're gonna do everything we can, Genevieve."  
  
The child seemed to relax after that, her head growing heavy against Max's chest.  
  
Moving carefully, Max prepared to slip her back into bed when she looked up at Max and said honestly, "I'm scared. Will you stay and look after us? We want to be with you and Logan."  
  
"Sure. You can stay here," Max told her, wondering what Logan would say to this.  
  
_Well, he'll just have to get over whatever's stressing him out.  
_  
She made the child lie down again, tucking the blankets around her.  
  
"I'll stay here till you fall asleep," she whispered into the darkness.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------- ------------  
  
It was a good while before Genevieve fell asleep but eventually Max was satisfied that she was sleeping peacefully.  
  
Logan was shutting down his computer by the time she came out.  
  
She looked at him with a hint of surprise.  
  
"I'm goin' to bed," he told her.  
  
"Logan, about the girls..."  
  
"Look, Max, I'm beat. Let's leave all this till tomorrow, huh?"  
  
"Sure," she answered a little abruptly. She could recognize a Logan Cale cold shoulder by now. She'd had it presented to her often enough.  
  
"Help yourself to whatever you like," he called behind him as he headed around the corner to his room.  
  
Max didn't call out good night.  
  
Frowning, her eyes distant, she walked into the kitchen and killed some time by making herself coffee, all the while listening for the slightest noise from the girls, but as time went by, she relaxed. It appeared as though Genevieve had gone off into a sound sleep.  
  
Genevieve.  
  
What would the child say when she was told that she had to leave here, be shunted off to some strangers she didn't know and had no reason to trust?  
  
She took out a mug from the cupboard and brought it over to the coffee maker, barely aware of the alluring aroma she normally loved.  
  
The dark liquid swirled into the mug but no sooner had she poured it than she realized coffee was the last thing she wanted.  
  
"_Sophy's scared."_  
  
His words had startled her.  
  
Was this what it was all about?  
  
She wondered how it was that she was always so blind with him.  
  
She remembered with a cringe the awful inadequacy of her words after the Vertes fiasco – "This'll be all right."  
  
_What was I thinking? Pass it off with a pleasantry?  
  
Might as well have given him a box of chocolates like all his other well- meaning friends.  
  
_ --------------------------------------------------- ---------------------  
  
Maybe it was the fault of those stupid shoes, Logan thought tensely, but for whatever reason, he couldn't get the images from the hoverdrone footage out of his mind as he sat in his chair, dressed for bed but with no inclination to actually go to the trouble of getting in it.  
  
The one that hurt him the most was not the way his body had collapsed onto the child when the bullet hit, but the way Sophy had clutched desperately at his arm, squealing with terror as the men had pried her fingers open and carried her away – and he had been unknowing and powerless to stop them.  
  
Her first mistake – Max had been right all those months ago. He'd promised Lauren and Sophy his protection, even though he knew he had no right. How had he ever decided to play god with people's lives?  
  
It was a mistake he was determined not to repeat.  
  
He'd seen the same fear in Genevieve's blue eyes that he had remembered in Sophy's dark ones as Sonrisa's men had crashed their car into them and in a terrifying split second they'd been surrounded by gunfire and masked men – his driver dead, Peter dead.  
  
It worried him even now that perhaps the child's peace was still disturbed by nightmares.  
  
Suddenly striking the wheel of his chair with his open palm, he wondered if he'd ever be able to forgive himself – that in his arrogance he had risked the life of a child in order to take down Sonrisa.  
  
This afternoon it had all been so familiar - the child, the gun, the feeling of helplessness.  
  
Helplessness – _what would Max ever know about that?_  
  
Decisively swinging around, Logan positioned his chair next to his bed and went through all the motions of getting into it and making himself comfortable.  
  
He had just taken off his glasses and was about to turn off the light when he heard a soft knock on his door.  
  
"Yeah?" he called out, knowing it was Max and tensing accordingly as he wondered if she was coming in to argue with him.  
  
"You're not asleep," she murmured, then added self-derisively, "Well that's stating the obvious," as she watched him put his glasses back on and pull himself up to lean against the headboard and his pillows.  
  
"Well," she tried again, finding the body hugging T Shirt he wore to bed a little distracting, "I'm worried about the girls."  
  
"I am too," he answered promptly. "That's why I want to get them outta Seattle ASAP."  
  
Logan watched her as she paced a little, briefly staring out into the wet night through the mesh curtains.  
  
"I'm really kinda tired," he prompted her, hoping that perhaps she'd give up and leave him to his ruminations.  
  
"Logan, the girls have been through so much the last two days. They don't need the added trauma of new faces and places. What they need now is some _stability."_  
  
He shook his head a little as he said, "Max, I know what you're saying but..."  
  
"Logan, this has _nothing to do with what happened to Sophy,"_ she interrupted him, sounding a little sharper than she had intended as she forced herself to say the words.  
  
"I didn't know mind reading was part of the Manticore curriculum," he retorted sarcastically, his defences well in place.  
  
Max looked down at him, for once refusing to be hurt by his comments because she was almost certain she knew the source they had sprung from and she was determined to keep in mind the bigger picture.  
  
"Logan," she said, this time with a little more warmth and understanding in her voice as she sat down on the edge of his bed, carefully avoiding his legs, "this whole situation is nothing like the time you were trying to get Lauren and Sophy into witness protection."  
  
For an instant, she thought she'd said something unknowingly shocking to him as she was a little startled to see the colour drain from his face.  
  
"_What did you say_?" he asked her tensely, leaning forward and grabbing onto her wrist.  
  
She looked down at his long fingers wrapped around her wrist, a little surprised at his strength as the warmth of his hand almost seemed to burn her.  
  
"I said it's not like when you were trying to get Lauren and Sophy..."  
  
_"...into witness protection_," he finished for her knowingly, then clapped the hand that had grasped her wrist to his forehead as he said, "How could I have been so stupid not to have thought of this sooner!"  
  
Max looked at him with dawning understanding.  
  
"You think the girls parents are in a witness protection program?"  
  
Logan was nodding his head now as he could see it all fall into place.  
  
"It all makes sense: the obscure answers from Genevieve, no relatives, friends, no addresses, no records of the family _anywhere,"_ he finished almost triumphantly as his hand reached out for his chair to check that the brakes were on. Max had to stand quickly as he threw back the covers in readiness to transfer.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asked, knowing the answer already.  
  
"I'm gonna look into it, of course," he told her as he slid across to his chair.  
  
"You want me to grab a sweater for you?" she asked, eyeing his lightweight plaid flannel pyjama pants. The heating had already been turned down for the evening.  
  
"No, it's okay. I can grab it," he answered her as he placed his feet on the footrest, already sounding a bit distracted as his mind raced wildly over a hundred possibilities.  
  
Ignoring his refusal, as obviously sweaters were the last things he had on his mind, she walked through to his closet.  
  
She had just taken his brown one off the shelf when a dreadful thought came to her.  
  
"Logan!"  
  
He was still where she'd left him, pulling on an extra pair of socks.  
  
"What is it?" he asked as he straightened up.  
  
_What was it about today? This is my second mistake_, she thought with irritation and a hint of embarrassment that she'd have to admit to yet another slip up.  
  
"I forgot," she admitted quickly. "When you were with Bling, Matt Sung called. He wanted you to call him back."  
  
"_Max..."_ he couldn't help remonstrating a little.  
  
"I know, but you were kind of asleep at the time. I'm sorry," she added with a slight wince.  
  
"Well, what did he say?"  
  
"He wants you to call," she told him quickly.  
  
Logan headed back to his bed and picked up the phone there.  
  
"Don'tcha think it's a bit late?" she wondered aloud, thinking of the man's health.  
  
Logan ignored the point.  
  
"Matt. You called." Brief and to the point as ever, thought Max dryly.  
  
She watched him as he listened intently to the detective, his eyes focused on the floor.  
  
It was a quick call. Loquaciousness had never been one of his vices.  
  
"Matt was on to something before he was shot," he told Max as soon as he'd hung up the phone.  
  
Logan leaned forward to deliver the punch line.  
  
"He had a name for me – apparently there's been a leak in Witness Protection," he told her succinctly.  
  
TBC 


	14. Nothing but the Truth

My apologies for taking so long on this chapter, but I've been away, and I wrote the Cape Haven Challenge story in between.  
  
My most sincere thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter and 'Aliens Among Us' – I always get a big kick out of them!  
  
To Alaidh for her insightful betaing – thank you!  
  
Chapter 14  
  
"_Green._ I don't know why I didn't think of it before," Logan muttered half to himself and half to Max as he headed back out to his computer.  
  
"Think of what before?" Max queried as she followed him, feeling like his mind had leapt about five jumps ahead of hers and marvelling at his ability to focus so thoroughly on another matter when she knew he had been obsessing over a very different one only moments before.  
  
Heading past the kitchen and into his study he said, "It's just a guess, but if you were gonna change your name, maybe several times, and you wanted it to be one that kids would remember..." he trailed off, leaving her to fill in the dots as he booted up his computer.  
  
Max's own agile brain had no problem now with grasping the significance. "You'd want it to be something simple a young child could remember – like a colour. Then if they made a mistake and forgot, and said their name was _Black_, rather than Green ..."  
  
"People would put it down to a childish mistake," Logan finished for her, jabbing at the keys as he logged on.  
  
"So how ya gonna deal with this?" Max asked him as she pulled up the computer chair to sit a little closer.  
  
Logan saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, immediately aware of the subtle scent of cherry and leather that was unmistakably her. This time her closeness didn't bother him, but rather, he welcomed it, recognizing it as a warm gesture of her friendship, wryly aware that a computer screen could be very poor company in the early hours of the morning.  
  
"There are a few things I could do. I could hack into witness protection records themselves, see if I can come up with something on the kids that way. Then there's the name Matt gave me - _Juan Fernandez_ - supposedly the name behind the leak. Word is he sold out to the Russians."  
  
"He still around?" asked Max in surprise.  
  
Logan shook his head. "Gone to ground. _Surprise, surprise."_  
  
"I hear the weather's fine in Jamaica this time of year," smiled Max cynically. "You hungry?"  
  
"Coffee'd be good," he hinted as he concentrated on the screen.  
  
"Sure," Max answered, studying his profile a moment before she got up. He didn't appear anywhere near as tense as he had earlier, for which she was grateful, both for his sake and for hers, but the earlier events of the evening made her wonder just how close his hurts were to the surface, and what it cost him to keep them so rigorously hidden – and how many of them were her fault  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------ -------------------  
  
"How long you gonna keep this up?" Max asked him some time later as she brought his third cup of coffee in to where he sat at the dining table, his laptop and an array of papers before him.

The computer in his study was working its way through complex programs that would hopefully cut through firewalls and passwords and eventually let him peruse the closely guarded secrets of the government's witness protection program.  
  
Logan shrugged, leaning back and stretching his shoulders a little as she put the coffee in front of him. "Could take days," he admitted, "if I can get in at all."  
  
"Do we have that long?" asked Max quietly as she looked down at him.  
  
With a grimace of discontent, Logan picked up his drink. "Guess we just have to."  
  
"You cool with it if I head out and pick up my bike? I left it padlocked in the street."  
  
Looking concerned, Logan said, "I hope it's still there."  
  
"Has been every other time," she told him. "I won't be long."  
  
Logan looked at her seriously. "You wanna be careful out there. After this afternoon..."  
  
"I'm a big girl," she called over her shoulder as she headed for the door, careful to lock it on her way out after grabbing his car keys from the hall table.  
  
Rather than exiting by the front door of his building, Max headed down to the underground parking area where she let herself out by one of the security doors.  
  
The air was decidedly chilly, but she found its coldness refreshing as she breathed in deeply.  
  
Carefully, she peered around the garage doorway. There'd be no slip-ups this time. Her thoughts were firmly focused on only one thing.  
  
He was easy to spot.  
  
_Must be getting soft if he's sitting in his car,_ thought Max. _Question is, are you FBI or are_ _you one of George's friends?_ she mused. _Hardly looks like he's in mourning. FBI, definitely.  
_  
Slipping back the way she had come, Max headed to the back of the underground parking area where 6 steps led to a single door which she opened and found herself in the street behind his building.  
  
Mindful of her mistake that morning, she checked carefully once more for any sign of surveillance. The street appeared to be totally deserted save for the large rat that ran across her path. Thankful that there were no large rats of the human variety, she set off up the street, following it until she had reached the area where she'd left her bike on the road running parallel to her.  
  
"Be there," she whispered silently, now not nearly as confident as she had appeared to Logan.  
  
Heading up a narrow road that led back out to Mayfield Avenue, she carefully looked around the corner once more, smiling with relief when she saw her bike in one piece. It was hard to make a living as a bike messenger without one.  
  
Once she'd unlocked the bike, it took her only a few minutes to retrace her route, equally as cautious as she had been on her way out, her eyes continually probing the darkness of the poorly lit Seattle streets with calculating thoroughness.  
  
Using the security device on Logan's key ring, she unlocked the door and entered the underground parking area. Once she had padlocked her bike to a wall pipe, she took the elevator back to the penthouse.  
  
Momentarily less vigilant, she leant against the wall of the elevator, arms stretched out either side of the handrail. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes for a moment, letting her body relax.  
  
_He pressed the button, then looked down at her, one hand holding the walking stick, his face betraying nothing of what he felt. It didn't have to – everything was expressed in those green eyes – encouragement, compassion, optimism. "You'll get there in time."  
  
"We don't have sufficient data to make that call," Zack countered almost belligerently.  
  
The green eyes flickered to the X5, meeting the other's gaze in an almost cool, contemplative manner, but there'd been a hint of annoyance in the voice. "There's a 50/50 chance I'm right. Is it against Manticore training to look on the bright side?"  
_  
Max's eyes sprung open.  
  
_Where did that memory come from?_

Her mind wandered back almost unwillingly to the night they'd rescued Tinga - the night, she now realized, when his world had started to fall apart again.  
  
The elevator door slid open and her heart promptly stopped.  
  
The door to Logan's apartment was wide open.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------  
  
In a weary gesture, Logan placed his glasses on the table in front of him. Leaning his elbows on the table, he drew both hands across his face, for a moment leaving his eyes to rest in the darkness of the hands that Charlie had been so keen to sketch.  
  
It was hard to resist the feeling of being overwhelmed by all that had happened in the last few days, and all that had yet to be accomplished if they were ever going to discover Emma Belding's fate and reunite the children with their parents.  
  
Logan removed his hands from his eyes, resting his chin on them instead. The apartment was quiet other than the noise of the computer fans quietly humming and the occasional beep as the program proceeded through each stage.  
  
At least Max wouldn't be getting wet, he thought as his less than alert gaze wandered to the windows in front of him.  
  
For a moment he let his eyes close once more, his head almost immediately resting heavier on his hands as a myriad of thoughts careened through his mind, rushing to have their say before sleep overpowered him, as it inevitably would.  
  
_Hillsgate Road.  
  
There's a leak in witness protection.  
  
...nothing to do with what happened to Sophy.  
  
...sold out to the Russians.  
  
Black, green, white.  
  
Because I couldn't feel it ...I couldn't feel it...I couldn't ...  
_  
Logan's head snapped up.  
  
He sat perfectly still, frowning into the distance, suddenly very awake and uncomfortably aware of his heart thumping wildly in his chest.  
  
Logan listened intently, but the only thing he heard was the persistent hum from his study.  
  
He let go his breath slowly, almost feeling dizzy from the sensation of the blood rushing in his ears.  
  
"I gotta go to bed," he muttered to himself, a little unnerved to find his mind playing tricks and realizing that he'd be of no use to anyone if he didn't get some sleep.  
  
Logan released his brakes, then swung around intending to head to bed. Realizing at the last minute he didn't have his glasses, he awkwardly reached back to get them, managing at the same time to knock Bryan Burke's file to the ground.  
  
He grunted with annoyance, frowning at the mess he'd made. The loose papers had managed to spread themselves around the floor and under the table.  
  
"Great," he congratulated himself sarcastically. "_Just great."_  
  
The thought crossed his mind that if he left them, Max would pick them up for him, but he dismissed it as too much like admitting a weakness. _A bit of tiredness won't kill me,_ he reasoned bracingly to himself as he held on to the table and reached down to grab the closest one that had fluttered next to the wheel of his chair.  
  
His eyes fell on the words as he went to put it on the table, and in that instant he had a flash of something that was tantalizingly on the very edge of his thought process.  
  
_Hillsgate Road._  
  
Suddenly Logan's head shot up again.  
  
This time he knew it wasn't the result of a tired mind - there was definitely someone at his front door and, with a chilling certainty, he knew it wasn't Max.  
  
Logan dug deep and made it to his study in record time, immediately sliding open the lid to reveal his gun.  
  
It wasn't there.  
  
He grimaced with frustration as he realized Bling would have placed it somewhere out of the girls' reach. In all likelihood out of his own reach as well.  
  
Logan's head jerked up again in the direction of the door as he heard another unrecognizable sound, but this time he forced himself to analyse it, rather than jumping to wild conclusions of several 'George' clones, clad in suits and carrying guns, at his door.  
  
He had to admit it was hard to imagine who would be calling on him at ten past four in the morning.  
  
Slowly Logan wheeled over to the door.  
  
The sudden cry for help startled him, but almost immediately he began to relax.  
  
Even still, he hesitated an instant before putting his hand on the doorknob. He suspected that Max would disapprove - tell him he should have waited for her return.  
  
The door swung open suddenly with the force of someone leaning against it as Logan a little warily unlocked it.  
  
Wheeling back quickly, he found himself looking up into the slightly battered face of his formerly impeccable cousin, Martin.  
  
"You alone?" Logan asked him quickly with a searching glance towards the open door as his cousin staggered into the room.  
  
Martin looked about vaguely, finally letting his gaze move downward to focus on Logan before he nodded mutely.  
  
"You'd better come and sit down," Logan urged him, taking in the bruised and bloodied face.  
  
Martin took four steps down the hallway leading to the living area before he turned to Logan with a dazed look, then sank to the floor in a dead faint.  
  
Logan instinctively put out a hand to catch Martin, only to pull it back immediately as he realized the futility of his action.  
  
He couldn't help but wince as Martin's head struck the ground with a solid thump.  
  
"Damn," Logan muttered as he looked down at his cousin's inert body, annoyed by his own inability to help him, and by his cousin's apparent inability to look after himself.  
  
_"Logan!"_  
  
He looked up to see Max staring at him, then her eyes darted to Martin.  
  
"What happened?" she asked sharply.  
  
Logan indicated his cousin, shrugging a little. "He turned up here and fainted."  
  
Max looked relieved, only to look at Martin with something like distaste. "I don't know who's more trouble – George's people, our FBI friends, or _him."_  
  
"Can you just get him to the couch for me?" Logan asked her with a flash of weary annoyance.  
  
It was late, he was tired, and he didn't want to have to deal with Max's antagonism towards Martin. Not that it probably wasn't warranted, he mused as he watched Max lift the still unconscious Martin into a fireman's hold and walk through to the living room to deposit him none too gently on the couch where she proceeded to check his vitals.  
  
"He'll live," she told Logan, who'd followed her into the room, almost sounding disappointed. "Looks like he's managed to make a few new friends, or piss off the ones he's already got. Ya think he's got any friends?" she added, as an afterthought.  
  
Logan merely squinted at her and shook his head. "I'll get a washcloth."  
  
"No, I'll get it," Max said jumping up, not giving him a chance to reply.  
  
Logan followed her movements with his eyes, then wheeled closer to the couch to survey his cousin. It was hard to believe it was the same person who'd turned up several nights ago, immaculately groomed, looking very much the up and coming young executive. Well, he was neither 'up' nor 'coming' now, thought Logan wryly, taking in the tattered overalls that were stained with a mixture of Seattle mud and presumably Martin's own blood from a badly split lip. The baseball cap had gone missing, but to Logan's surprise, going by the bulge in Martin's pocket, it appeared as though his wallet was still intact. The fact made him study his cousin thoughtfully. _How many thieves rob you then return your wallet?  
_  
He wondered cynically what tale Martin would spin this time.  
  
"So, what story d'ya think he's gonna try and blow you off with this time?" Max asked as she returned with the wet cloth, unwittingly echoing his own thoughts as she tossed it over to him.  
  
"Maybe he'll tell the truth," Logan replied a little contrarily, not entirely happy that Max read his cousin as he had himself. Somewhere he still had a memory of backyard basketball games, his youngest cousin pleading to join in. _Maybe we should have let him join in more often,_ he mused a little guiltily.  
  
"He wasn't a bad kid," Logan told her, perhaps to remind himself of the fact as he reached over to put the cloth on Martin's forehead in an attempt to revive him.  
  
"Yeah, yeah – just misunderstood," Max said sarcastically as she walked across to the windows, her gaze restlessly sweeping the skyline. Martin's presence made her feel uneasy.  
  
"Well, he has got _Jonas_ for a father."  
  
"You have him for an uncle, and look how you turned out," Max retorted, unimpressed.  
  
"I guess to some people it can be as difficult growing up with too much money as not enough," Logan said, glancing up at her and wondering, half to himself, why he was trying to make excuses for Martin's behaviour.  
  
"My heart bleeds for him."  
  
A groan from the couch made them both look in that direction.  
  
"Logan?"  
  
"Nice of you to drop in," Logan told him with dry humour. "Next time I'd better put padding on the floor for you."  
  
"Yeah," Martin attempted a grin, but it died on his lips when he saw Max as she walked across to his line of vision.  
  
"You're just full of surprises, aren't you," Max told him, coming around to stand at the base of the couch.  
  
"_Max,"_ Logan cautioned her quietly. "Maybe we'd better hear Martin's story."  
  
"I did miss my bedtime one tonight," Max agreed compliantly, noting the flush of colour that now crept up the younger man's face.  
  
"Logan too busy with the kids? You feeling left out?" Martin bit back with relish.  
  
Max hid her look of surprise. What did he know about Genevieve and Monique?  
  
"Martin," Logan interjected quickly, not happy with how this was going, "just tell us what happened to you."  
  
Martin took the cloth from his face and sat up, with a somewhat defiant look in Max's direction.  
  
Logan sat back with his arms crossed, awaiting his explanation, eyebrows raised expectantly.  
  
"Well?" he finally prompted. The night was swiftly winging its way towards dawn.  
  
"I stopped by Emma's apartment building."  
  
Getting no response to this admission, he looked up at Logan with an expression Logan couldn't quite place. Was it guilt? Embarrassment?  
  
"I just felt like I needed to do something - try to help in some way. You seemed kind of preoccupied when I was here this afternoon."  
  
Logan caught Max flashing a look in his direction. He still hadn't had a chance to tell her about Martin's previous visit.  
  
Martin seemed to find their silence uncomfortable.  
  
"I just thought I should check through her things myself - see if I could come up with something that maybe you'd missed," Martin finished, trying to not sound too defensive.  
  
"Don't tell me, Emma's roommate Charlie did this to you?" Max queried enjoyably, taking in his beaten appearance.  
  
For once Martin ignored her, directing his words towards Logan.  
  
"It was that big guy who hangs around. _Seth_."  
  
"Seth?" Logan repeated with surprise.  
  
With the satisfaction of having finally elicited a response from Logan, Martin continued with more assurance, "I was just walking up the hallway when he spotted me. He went crazy, grabbing me and punching me, yelling that I'd hurt Emma."  
  
"So how'd you get away?" Max asked, her voice not quite free from suspicion.  
  
"He made so much noise that a few guys came out to see what it was all about. I think it scared him when he saw them and he suddenly dropped the whole thing and ran off."  
  
"And you thoughtfully staggered here?" Max finished for him.  
  
Martin stole a look at Logan. "I didn't know where else to go. I wasn't feeling that good."  
  
"You weren't looking that good either," Logan agreed with him, trying to make up a little for Max's coldness. "Ever seen Seth violent before?" he asked thoughtfully.  
  
"I've hardly seen the guy," Martin protested. "Emma told me he was a bit slow. There was nothing slow about his fists," he said ruefully, putting a hand to his sore jaw.  
  
Logan could see that he was a good deal shaken by the experience - understandable he supposed.  
  
"You'd better bunk down here the rest of the night – or what's left of it," he told him, purposefully ignoring Max's eye. "It'll hafta be the couch, though."  
  
"Thanks, Logan." After a pause he added, a little hesitantly, his blue eyes darting to Logan's green ones, "I could do with the company."  
  
Max raised her dark, perfectly shaped eyebrows. "Logan, we gotta talk." She didn't care too much if she offended Martin. With any luck ...she thought hopefully.  
  
Logan glanced up at her once, then back to Martin. "Can I get you some coffee?"  
  
Martin looked grateful for the offer, but then hesitated. "I can get it," he offered. "It's getting awful late."  
  
"Well, I wouldn't want you to report back to Jonas that my Bohemian lifestyle is all a myth," Logan returned easily as he released his brakes and swung around.  
  
Max followed Logan without so much as a backward glance at Martin, but on reaching the kitchen, she strode ahead of him and silently grabbed the kettle from the stove, before heading to the sink and turning the faucet on at almost full force.  
  
Logan halted mid-way between the sink and the stove. He thought he knew what was coming.  
  
Max let the water run, but showed no intention of putting the kettle beneath the flow to fill it up.  
  
"This is not a good idea," she told Logan succinctly, using the sound of the water to cover a little of what she said. "You already have an FBI agent camped at your front door. Who knows what vermin Martin's got following him around?"  
  
"See anything out there when you came up?"  
  
"Nope," Max had to admit.  
  
"Max, I can't just turn him out in the cold," Logan protested, adding mildly, "You're wasting water," with a nod towards the gushing faucet.  
  
"What about the girls?" she tried swiftly. "Martin may be compromising their safety."  
  
"Max, he'll be gone first thing in the morning," he promised her, wheeling over and turning off the faucet himself.  
  
"It's already first thing in the morning," she reminded him, recognizing when his mind was made up. "You said you'd make him coffee," she added pointedly.  
  
"Oh," Logan responded, fighting the fog that was addling his brain.  
  
"You go to bed. I'll do it," Max offered.  
  
"I think Martin needs a little first-aid work," Logan hinted instead.  
  
Max rolled her eyes for a moment, then in the voice of one who had nearly used up their vast reserves of patience she sighed, "Tell me where Bling put your meds."  
  
-------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------  
  
Max had finished her doctoring by the time Logan had made his second trip to Martin.  
  
The first time he had a pillow and a blanket on his lap. The second time he had a mug of coffee carefully balanced on a tray that sat across his legs.  
  
"I'll put this stuff away and check on the girls," Max muttered as he stopped at the couch.  
  
Well, at least she'd managed to remain reasonably civil as she'd ministered to him, Logan mused thankfully.  
  
"You're looking more human," Logan commented as he handed him the mug of coffee, barely stifling a yawn as he did so.  
  
"So, the two kids are staying here?" Martin asked as he popped a pill into his mouth that Max had given him and took a sip of his hot drink.  
  
"For the time being," Logan replied vaguely, not sure how much he wanted to tell Martin and thinking if he didn't get his body in a horizontal position soon he'd more than likely fall asleep in the chair.  
  
Martin looked at him apologetically. "You and Max had better go to bed."  
  
Logan felt his body temperature go up several notches as he realized what Martin was implying.  
  
"You've got it wrong. Max isn't my girlfriend."  
  
"So where's she gonna sleep?" Martin asked, with casual indifference.  
  
"She doesn't ...not much anyway," he amended quickly. "Max is one of those people who get by with very little sleep. She grabbed a few hours earlier on in the night," he elaborated in a disinterested way, as if Max's sleeping habits were of absolutely no interest to him whatsoever.  
  
"So why isn't she?"  
  
"What?" asked Logan, finding it more and more difficult to keep up with the conversation.  
  
"Your girlfriend."  
  
Martin was beginning to feel very relaxed and peaceful about everything, not realizing that Max had actually given him a mild sedative. His older cousin didn't appear nearly as unapproachable as he normally did.  
  
"Brunettes aren't your type? You've tried a red-head," he laughed.  
  
"Martin."  
  
"I gotta say she terrifies me, though. The most beautiful girl I've ever seen. You know I thought that when I saw her at Bennett's wedding, but this other stuff has me kind of worried."  
  
_"Martin_," Logan tried again to stop the flow.  
  
"I mean, would you want a relationship with a _GI Jane_? How comfortable would you feel knowing she could whip your ass anytime she chose, and then there's the way she ..."  
  
"Martin, _it's not about Max!"_ he finally snapped, goaded into his admission by Martin's relentless, and what he considered, totally unfair, denigrations.  
  
Martin looked at him with sudden discernment.  
  
"I'm sorry, Logan," he said quietly.  
  
Logan froze for a moment.  
  
"I'm goin' to bed," he finally muttered, releasing his brakes and swinging around. It seemed to take a lot more effort than usual.  
  
"Night, Logan," Martin called in a subdued manner to him before settling back with a thoughtful expression on the pillow Logan had given him.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------- --------------------  
  
Logan struggled reluctantly back to consciousness.  
  
He didn't want to. He felt like he could sleep an entire week without any effort at all, but now that he was even half awake, he could feel an intensely annoying nagging something that told him he had to get up.  
  
His first instinct was to block out the streaks of daylight that were intrusively penetrating his bedroom between the cracks of the curtains, with a pillow placed over his head. This worked reasonably successfully for a while, but it didn't stop the prompting that told him there was way too much for him to do to spend time indulging himself.  
  
Eventually he threw the pillow off and looked bleary-eyed at the clock. It was just after 10am.  
  
He wondered if Bling would be there – he couldn't remember what time his therapist had said he'd be coming.  
  
_Then there was Martin.  
_  
For a moment he was tempted to put the pillow back over his head.  
  
_Stupid,_ he berated himself.  
  
With a dark expression, he could well imagine the topic of conversation at the next Cale family gathering – well, at least he'd long ago made it a policy to rarely attend them. For Max' s sake he wished ...Linking his hands behind his head, he purposefully steered his thoughts to other channels.  
  
Max hadn't called him so he supposed his computer was still working through the various passwords and firewalls of the witness protection program.  
  
He suddenly realized that he'd left Burke's file scattered on the ground after all, thanks to Martin's arrival.  
  
"Hillsgate Road," he muttered to himself. Last night, just before Martin had turned up, he'd felt as though somewhere at the back of his mind, the road was familiar to him.  
  
The thought was enough to spur him into action.  
  
With the familiarity of a long established pattern, he put a hand out for his glasses without needing to look, then pulled himself up into a sitting position and looked around his darkened bedroom.  
  
There was just one small detail he had to attend to first.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------- -------------  
  
Max sat at the dining table, Burke's notes spread out before her, with Logan's laptop displaying a detailed map of Seattle.  
  
With painstaking thoroughness, she had been checking every abbreviation the detective had written against the alphabetically listed streets and places of interest shown on the map. She'd been at it for some hours, in between giving the girls their breakfast and entertaining them, trying to keep them a little quiet for Logan's sake as he caught up on some sleep.  
  
Martin still snored on the couch. Whatever it was she had given him had turned out to be quite potent, for which she was thankful.  
  
Neither of the girls had been impressed to see him stretched out in the living room.  
  
Monique had taken one look at his recumbent form, pointed an accusing finger and pronounced with an air of finality, "_He's a bad man_!" She was inclined to hide behind Max's legs until Max had assured her that he was asleep and wasn't going to wake up for some time.  
  
Max was a little puzzled at their response, then reflected dryly that it was hard to hide things from children.  
  
"He's Logan's cousin," Max had finally explained to Monique.  
  
"We know. He told us," Genevieve told her, "but we don't like him. He was mean to Logan," she added with a sullen look in Martin's direction.  
  
Max suppressed a grin as their dislike became a little easier to understand.  
  
"Well, you don't need to worry about him," she promised them. "He won't be here long."  
  
They looked satisfied at that, quite happy to return to the kitchen and help Max with their breakfast, which had gone quite smoothly until Monique had a small crisis when she couldn't eat out of exactly the same blue bowl she'd used the day before."  
  
"She always does this," Genevieve explained with a ten-year-old's grievance. "Mommy doesn't usually give in to her, but my dad always lets her have her own way. _I_ wouldn't be allowed to do that!"  
  
"The advantage of being three!" Max had smiled as she thankfully located the missing blue bowl in the refrigerator with some leftovers in it, fully sympathizing with Genevieve's father's point of view. It was amazing how quickly very small children worked out the effectiveness of a continual high-pitched cry.  
  
"Men always do that," Genevieve had shrugged in a knowing way as she buttered her toast.  
  
Intrigued with the 'voice of experience' Max asked in an off-hand manner, "So...what did Logan do when she cried like that?"  
  
"He mostly let her have what she wanted, 'cept when she wanted one of his big sharp knives to cut her pancakes, and he wouldn't let her play with the DVDs," she admitted in a fair tone, her head a little to one side as she considered the point, "but he didn't like her crying either."  
  
"Well, I just gave her the bowl because I didn't want her to wake Logan," Max told her, trying not to make it sound like an excuse. "Or Martin," she added as an afterthought, finding it difficult to keep the note of dislike out of her voice.  
  
"Hey! You don't like him either!" Genevieve had crowed with delight from her high stool at the kitchen counter as she ate her cereal. _"I knew you wouldn't!"_ she positively beamed.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------  
  
After breakfast the girls had played with their dolls, then Genevieve had found some children's programs on TV.  
  
Max turned around to check on them every so often, but both girls appeared to be absorbed in whatever it was they were watching so she had been able to focus on the task before her. She was hoping to have something concrete to present to Logan when he woke up.  
  
Max scanned the map in front of her carefully, looking for any streets that began with 'b' that would fit her theory. She had just enlarged an area near South Market, when her acute hearing picked up the muffled call of, "_Max!"_ from Logan's bedroom.  
  
A little startled by his tone of voice, she stood up quickly and hurried to his bedroom door, feeling a bit uneasy as she wondered why he would have called her.  
  
"Logan?" she called to him, pausing at his doorway, a little surprised to see that it stood slightly ajar.

_What was it with the doors around here lately?_ she wondered. He'd always slept with it closed the times she'd stayed in his apartment overnight.  
  
"Hey," he called to her, by which she assumed she was to go in. "I got a problem."  
  
Max pushed the door open its full extent.  
  
He seemed to be okay, she thought as she looked into his still darkened room. He was sitting up, lying against his pillows, glasses on, hair every which way.  
  
"I can't get up," he told her dryly.  
  
For a fraction of a second she looked at him uncomprehendingly, thinking that perhaps his shoulder was bothering him or something, when his meaning suddenly became clear and she nodded her head.  
  
"I think I know the culprit," was all she said as she disappeared down the hallway to the guestroom, only to return a few minutes later with his wheelchair.  
  
"You been giving her lessons?" Logan asked her suspiciously as she placed it by his bed and set the brakes.  
  
"Nope, full points to Monique for this one – she thought it up all by herself. Besides, you've got to be at least four years old for cat burglar training," Max explained as she pulled open the curtains and let the morning light flood the room, finding Monique's ingenuity humorous but a little unsure of Logan's reaction. "Apparently she thought it would make the perfect stroller for her doll."  
  
"Should I have bought her a stroller for her doll?" he asked, suddenly struck by this omission on his part as he slid across to the chair.  
  
"Logan, you bought her plenty. She was just being ... _creative."_  
  
Logan suddenly looked up at her, the suspicion evident in his eyes once more. "How come she didn't scream when you took it off her?"  
  
Max gave him a confident smile. "I simply said you'd give her a ride on your knee later."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------- ------------------  
  
Max looked up from a sink full of dishes to see Logan come in, obviously fresh from his shower. His hair was still slightly damp, but it didn't appear to be a vast improvement on its previous state when he'd just woken up, but she did raise her eyebrows the tiniest amount at his smooth, clean- shaven face. It always made him look that little bit younger, she mused, or perhaps less intense was closer to the mark, not so ...  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by Martin, calling across to Logan from where he sat at the kitchen counter drinking a mug of coffee.  
  
"How ya doin', Martin?" Logan asked his cousin, a trifle coolly, thought Max.  
  
"I don't know what was in that pill Max gave me, but it sure knocked me out," Martin returned enthusiastically, missing the mildly annoyed look that Logan shot at Max. He'd never intended that Max drug Martin with any of his meds.  
  
"You use those much? I had the best sleep," Martin enthused, only to be a little dampened by Logan's own less than enthusiastic, "No," as he poured himself a cup of coffee.  
  
"I've been working on Burke's notes," Max told Logan as she let the sink water drain out and dried her hands.  
  
"You find anything?" Logan asked intently.  
  
"See for yourself," she replied, taking a few steps and holding out a hand for his hot cup so that he had both hands free. She looked across suddenly to catch Martin's interested expression before following Logan to the dining table where she set his cup down.  
  
He'd given the computer in his study a cursory glance, but as he'd already expected, the program was still running.  
  
Logan looked at Burke's file, now neatly set out on the table in its correct order.  
  
"Thanks for picking this mess up," he thanked her ruefully.  
  
Max shrugged. She didn't want his thanks for something so trivial.  
  
"Logan!"  
  
He turned to see both girls coming towards him, the smile on their faces for him all the more noticeable as they both seemed to take a wide berth around Martin and throw him a less than friendly frown as they went by.  
  
"Hey, girls," Logan smiled back, a little surprised by their warm reception and wondering if there were any other rash promises Max had made on his behalf.  
  
"Oh. You shaved," were Genevieve's first words to him, sounding a little disappointed.  
  
Monique immediately climbed up on the dining chair next to him.  
  
"_You_ stole my wheelchair," he told her sternly, hoping she'd respond to a mild growl and he wouldn't have to send Max or Bling searching for it again.  
  
"Sorry, Logan," she said quickly, her blue eyes sweetly penitent as she knelt up on her chair. Her new discovery brought a smile to her face. "Smooth," she pronounced in a pleased manner as she put a small hand up to his cheek. "Like my Daddy."  
  
A little bemused by their interest in his appearance, particularly as he took little interest in it himself, he warned the three year old mildly, "Don't try to change the subject."  
  
"She won't do it again, will you Monique," Max promised him as she adroitly removed the mug of coffee out of the child's reach, saving Burke's files from certain disaster.  
  
Genevieve, seeing the papers laid out in front of them, said to Monique, "Come on. Let's go back and play. You need to feed your baby," earning her a look of gratitude from Max.  
  
Logan already had his head in the file, crosschecking Burke's notes with anything Max may have come up with.  
  
"Did you find Hillsgate?" he asked her, staring intently at her notes.  
  
"Hillsgate Avenue? How did you know about that? I thought you hadn't had a chance to work on any of this stuff."  
  
"Martin clued me into it," he told her a little distantly as his gaze darted from her notes, to the map on the screen, and finally back to Burke's notes again.  
  
Things were beginning to add up and he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.  
  
_"Here,"_ said Max, leaning forward and pointing with one slender finger to an entry in Burke's account as she stood next to Logan. "It says HG, then R, a little further on. Hillsgate Road looked like the best possibility."  
  
Logan peered at the information silently for a moment.  
  
"What d'ya think?" Max finally queried.  
  
Logan nodded his agreement.  
  
"Hillsgate sounds right to me, _doesn't it Martin?"_ he added on a louder note for his cousin's benefit, not bothering to turn around.  
  
Martin came across. "I did _suggest_ that to you," he reminded Logan, but he looked distinctly uncomfortable.  
  
"Yeah, and I really can't think why," Logan said wonderingly as he looked up at him.  
  
"I told you why," Martin snapped back, running a hand through his hair as he stared out the window.  
  
Logan turned to Max. "The 'Hillsgate' part is right ...only 'R' doesn't stand for 'road' – it stands for '_Russian,_' doesn't it Martin?"  
  
Max was now looking at Martin, her face a mixture of disbelief and disgust. "You knew all along what these letters stood for?"  
  
"Only some of them," he told her quickly.  
  
Max looked down at Logan. "So what's the dealio with the Russians?"  
  
"They have an illegal casino in Hillsgate Road. Putting two and two together, I suspect that's where all Martin's money has mysteriously disappeared to."  
  
"Why so high and mighty, Logan?" Martin shot at him like a cornered wildcat. "I don't remember you and Bennet being so 'holier than thou' in the past. Maybe it comes with the chair," he added cuttingly.  
  
"Martin, I have a contact at that casino who ID'd you from a photo."  
  
Catching Max's covert look of surprise, he pressed on regardless. He figured his one white lie paled into insignificance against the mountain Martin had invented these last few days.  
  
"He told me you'd been hanging out there for the last five months – only the cards haven't been kind to you, have they? You're a loser. _Big time."_  
  
"So what if I have?" he bristled.  
  
"Then you had the bright idea to dip into Cale funds," Logan continued smoothly, unperturbed by his cousin's manner, "but I'd hazard a guess Jonas found out and put an end to it."  
  
"Yeah - so what if any of this is true," Martin muttered belligerently.  
  
Logan leaned back and looked up at him.  
  
"You wanna tell me the _real reason_ you got me looking for Emma Belding?"  
  
TBC


	15. Revelations

Thanks once again to everybody for their very, very encouraging reviews.  
  
To Alaidh – my thanks as always for the beta – particularly when you are so busy at the moment. It is greatly appreciated.  
  
Story 3 chapter 15  
  
"You wanna tell me the _real reason_ you got me looking for Emma Belding?"  
  
Logan's question seemed to echo throughout the apartment, while Martin ran an unmistakably nervous hand over his mouth, his face looking more and more strained with Logan's relentless revelations.  
  
"I'm not sure that I know what you mean," he tried, but with little conviction. As he stood in front of the couch, the clenching and unclenching of his fists was a telltale sign of his discomfort.  
  
"It's all gonna come out. _So..."_ Logan stated with confidence, leaving the rest of his sentence to hover enticingly in the air as he released his brakes and swung away from the table to move a little closer to the couch.  
  
Max silently leant against the dining table, resisting the temptation to intervene as she watched Logan at work.  
  
He could be remarkably compelling in a quiet, insistent way.  
  
She wondered if this was how he had put his informant net together. Well, he was a journalist after all, she mused. Words had always been his weapon, rather than the sword, and she had to admit his use of them was masterful.  
  
Max wasn't particularly surprised to see Martin suddenly crumble – drop to the couch as if his legs were unable to hold him up, and put his face in his hands.  
  
"I might have got her killed," he muttered into his hands.  
  
"Start at the beginning, Martin," Logan told him bracingly as he shot a quick upward glance at Max.  
  
She raised her brows ironically, as if to say, "I told you so."  
  
"You're right. Damn you," Martin added with a spark of defiance. "I was stupid. I got hooked. You were right on all accounts," he admitted through clenched teeth. "Jonas found out I'd been ...'borrowing'... Cale money."  
  
"So they offered you a deal?" Logan suggested without inflection.  
  
Martin nodded guiltily. "The head guy, Petrovsky, said he'd rub out the debt if I did a small job for them."  
  
Max was already looking less than impressed. "And you _fell_ for that?" she asked incredulously.  
  
Martin jumped up uneasily, running a hand through his hair as he strode to the windows where he looked down longingly – perhaps with a desire to escape the sordid situation he found himself in.  
  
"I didn't know what else to do. You know, they're all your friends when they know you're from a wealthy family, but as soon as they get a whiff that the money has run out, they become _real mean."  
_  
"What else did you expect?" Logan commented dryly. "You were dealing with people who make their living out of bleeding people dry. You're probably only still in one piece because they saw a use for you."  
  
"So just what use _did _they see in you?" Max asked cynically.  
  
"It didn't sound so bad," Martin shrugged. "They just wanted me to make friends with this girl... splash some money at her... get her interested in me."  
  
"Emma Belding," Logan filled in quietly.  
  
Martin nodded as his hand clawed through his hair again. His highly paid hairdresser would have been aghast.  
  
"I couldn't see any harm in it. I just did what they said."  
  
"Only things turned ugly?"  
  
Martin shoved his hands in his pockets.  
  
"I started to like her. It became harder and harder reporting back all the stuff they wanted to know."  
  
"What kinda stuff?" Max shot at him.  
  
"Where she worked. Who her friends were. What she did with her time. Anything really. And then, out of the blue, she broke it off."  
  
He put his head down and kicked at the baseboard with his foot. "Thing is...I'd come to like her. I realized I was worried about her, and I started wondering why they wanted to know all this information. Then she disappeared."  
  
For the first time Max felt he was telling the truth. She doubted he was a good enough actor to convey the look of guilt, confusion and perhaps even remorse that she saw in his eyes.  
  
The room suddenly went very quiet, eventually broken by the slight creak of Logan's wheelchair as he shifted his position a little.  
  
"Did you really see her the night she disappeared?" Logan asked, still not prepared to accept everything his cousin said at face value.  
  
"I told you," Martin said, lifting his head to look over to Logan, "I took her out to dinner at Alexander's. Spared no expense," he laughed humourlessly. "You know how expensive that place is, Logan."  
  
Not bothering to fill him in on the fact that it was some time since he'd been there, Logan asked instead, "And you never saw her again?"  
  
Martin shook his head.  
  
"Don't you have any idea why Petrovsky and his peeps wanted the 411 on Emma?" Max put in.  
  
"Not a clue."  
  
Martin turned around with an apprehensive expression as the front door opened, but Logan, deep in thought, didn't even bother to look up.  
  
"It's Bling," Max announced for both their sakes.  
  
"Hey, people," the therapist greeted the assembled company.  
  
"Bling, you remember my cousin Martin from the other night?" Logan said, still with a slightly distracted air.  
  
"Sure. Give me a yell when you're ready to do your reps," he said to Logan with his usual quick perception before heading towards the kitchen.  
  
Martin, having nodded a hello, turned his gaze back to Logan.  
  
"So what are we going to do?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"_You_ are gonna do nothing for the time being. I gotta sort through this mess and see what I can come up with," Logan added, taking a deep breath and feeling less than inspired. Since Martin had turned up six days ago his life had become even more complicated than usual.  
  
_"Logan..."_  
  
"I need something to eat," Logan cut in, releasing his brakes with a snap as he realized he'd been running on nothing but caffeine for the last twelve hours and his body was beginning to protest.  
  
Martin would have pressed the point, but receiving a telling look from Max, he closed his mouth and slumped dejectedly against the windowpane instead.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------- --------------  
  
Bling was already in the kitchen making tea.  
  
"You want some?" he asked Logan as he came in.  
  
"Anything but coffee," Logan grimaced, taking a box of cereal out of the cupboard, then grabbing a bowl and spoon on his way to the counter.  
  
"I could do you some eggs if you like," Bling offered, casting a discerning look his way before getting the milk out of the fridge and putting it in front of Logan.  
  
Making a face, Logan said, "Nope. This'll do," as he poured the cereal and milk into his bowl.  
  
Bling watched him as he made his way to the dining table, his breakfast on his lap, before taking a glass and filling it with water.  
  
"Girls about?" he asked as he set it down in front of Logan.  
  
"Mmm, in the guestroom...and thanks," he added with a slight smile as he took the water and drank half in one go.  
  
"Mind if I take a shower, Logan?" Martin asked quietly, coming through from the living room to stand in front of him.  
  
"Fine by me. You need a change of clothes?"  
  
Martin shook his head. "I'll get some clean stuff later." He'd already removed the dirty overalls, and fortunately the jeans and shirt he wore underneath were still clean.  
  
"You'd better use my bathroom. That way you won't disturb the kids. There are fresh towels..."  
  
"Why don't I take him through and show him?" Bling suggested.  
  
Martin muttered his thanks as Logan nodded, and followed the muscular trainer down the hallway.  
  
"You want some more water?" Max smiled at Logan as she wandered in and watched him drink the last of it.  
  
Beginning to feel more human again after having eaten, Logan shook his head slightly, but clearly his thoughts weren't on himself.  
  
"What did you think of all that?" he asked her quietly, pushing away the almost finished breakfast bowl.  
  
"I thought for once he was laying it straight."  
  
"Me too."  
  
Logan sighed. "It would have made life a whole lot simpler if he'd come straight with this the first time he showed up here."  
  
"Not to mention a whole lot less dangerous," Max muttered darkly.  
  
"Mmm," murmured Logan, not thinking of his own situation, but Martin's. He was seriously concerned for his cousin's safety.  
  
"Do you really have a contact at the casino?" she asked suddenly.  
  
Logan smiled a little. "Yeah – but he's never seen a photo of Martin."  
  
"Logan Cale stooping to ..."  
  
"Hey, fight fire with fire," he quipped back.  
  
"Yeah, with Martin it's a veritable raging inferno," Max responded, her face darkening once more. "He's brought a whole heap a trouble down on you Logan. I don't like the idea of the FBI camping on your doorstep," she added with meaning, sitting on the chair opposite him, her eyes level with his.  
  
"Question is,_ why_ are they camped there? They know we've got the girls. If they wanted them back..."  
  
"Why don't they just come up and get them?"  
  
"Unless they think we can lead them to something, _someone..._I just don't know," he finished with a sigh of frustration.  
  
Max looked across at him. She couldn't decide if it was the strain of the last few days she could see in his face or just the discolouration from the slowly fading bruise.  
  
"Maybe I should change tack and look into the Russians' involvement in all this. They were the ones behind it all in the first place."  
  
Max pressed her lips together. She'd been expecting this ever since Martin had finally come clean.  
  
"They play dirty," was all she commented.  
  
"I don't want to _play_ with them, just check 'em out a little," Logan corrected her.  
  
"Sometimes yah can't have one without the other," she pressed a little harder.  
  
Logan looked across at her. He knew it wasn't her own skin she was concerned about.  
  
"Max, you know we're in way too deep to walk away from this now," he told her quietly. "What about the girls, Matt ... Emma Belding?"  
  
_"What about you?"_ she wanted to say. This was more than investigative journalism – all the players had played dirty right from the start – and Martin had put Logan bang-smack in the middle of all this crap.  
  
"Things have been kinda blowing up in our faces lately," she pointed out to him instead, her eyes going to his hands, which were loosely clasped in front of him on the table.  
  
"Must be our turn for a little luck, then, huh?" he asked her, his mouth slowly widening into a grin.  
  
"So, you all powered up to do your reps?" Bling asked as he returned.  
  
"I'm good," Logan responded, backing up from the table.  
  
Monique and Genevieve were holding onto his trainer's hands.  
  
"Do we get a piggy back later?" Genevieve was asking.  
  
"We'll see," Bling answered diplomatically. "I've gotta do some work with Logan, first."  
  
"Maybe we'd better do my reps later," Logan back-pedalled of a sudden, clearly not thrilled with the idea of an audience.  
  
"No time like the present," Bling replied unhelpfully.  
  
"Right," Logan agreed a little unenthusiastically.  
  
"You got a problem with that?" Bling asked him, knowing full well that he did.  
  
"No. It's fine. Let's do it," Logan replied in a business-like manner.  
  
"You girls are probably hungry," Max suggested, "seeing as how you didn't have your breakfast at lunchtime like lazybones here."  
  
Both girls looked at Logan and started to giggle, particularly Genevieve who had soon dissolved into a veritable fit of giggles.  
  
Logan smiled a little at the strange ways of ten-year-old girls, then looking up, he happened to catch both Max and Bling with a knowing grin on each of their faces.  
  
He felt slightly annoyed.  
  
He had the distinct impression that he was missing something.  
  
-------------------------------------------------- -------------  
  
"You sure love peanut butter," Max told Monique after rescuing the jar, and the spoon she was dipping into it, from her yet again.  
  
"_Yummy!"_ Monique smiled back. Well, Max assumed it was a smile because there was so much peanut butter around her mouth that it was kind of hard to tell.  
  
"Genevieve, how about you watch her while I get a washcloth?"  
  
"Sure, Max".  
  
_It's good to see the girls kickin' back a little_, Max reflected as she headed down the hallway towards their bathroom.  
  
She was thankful that, at least for the moment, Logan hadn't decided to send them away, but with that thought came the weight of the decision she had promised herself. She was determined that Logan wouldn't be put in another situation such as the one he had found himself in yesterday - she'd do anything to protect him from any similarities to what she now understood to be his own perceived failure to save Sophy.  
  
_I may be kinda slow at all this, but I'm beginning to see through some of your walls, Logan Cale,_ she thought to herself as she grabbed the wet cloth from the bathroom.  
  
"Max!"  
  
Max turned her head as she heard Martin's voice coming from Logan's room as she walked passed his door.  
  
_"What does he want now?"_ she muttered to herself as she put her head around the open doorway.  
  
Martin stood in the middle of the room.  
  
It annoyed her that the familiar post shower smell of Logan now lingered on him. The two definitely didn't match.  
  
"Don't suppose you know where Logan keeps a comb?"  
  
Max nearly laughed outright at that one.  
  
"You just don't know him at all, do you?" she mocked him.  
  
Martin's heightened colour told her she'd hit her mark.  
  
"Look, I know you don't like me..."  
  
"You're not even close to the mark."  
  
"You just see me the way you _want to_," he snapped.  
  
"Guess I do," she responded unperturbed, "_but it works for me_," she added brightly.  
  
She was about to turn and walk away when she swung around again as another thought occurred to her.  
  
"I guess everyone sees people the way they want to, to a certain extent. Now Logan, for whatever strange reason, (and I can only guess it's because you're his cousin), sees some redeeming qualities in you. Personally, I can't see why, but I guess that's what makes him different from most folks."  
  
"Listen, I never meant for Logan to get so involved in all this."  
  
"Maybe not, but you knew who you were dealing with from the beginning and just how dangerous it might be and you didn't even have the decency to tell him what he was getting himself into," she hissed savagely.  
  
"I didn't think he'd ..."  
  
He stopped suddenly.  
  
"_Help?"_ she finished succinctly for him.

"Like I said, you don't even know him," she spelled out slowly. "I doubt if any of you Cales do," she added scornfully. "Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta go wipe some peanut butter off Monique's mouth – it'll be a lot easier than washing the bad taste outta my own."  
  
--------------------------------------------------------- --------  
  
"How's your shoulder feeling?" Bling looked down and asked Logan as he slowly lifted his right leg, letting it bend at the knee.  
  
"I hardly noticed it this morning."  
  
"Good. All the same, we'll take it easy on that side when we do your weights."  
  
Logan didn't comment, which Bling knew didn't necessarily mean he hadn't heard – it just meant he didn't reply.  
  
"You and Max getting this whole Martin thing sorted out?" he tried again, feeling in a talkative mood.  
  
Logan shrugged resignedly. "Let's just say that Martin is my uncle's son."  
  
"Bad as that?" Bling murmured.  
  
"I dunno," Logan sighed, admitting in a disappointed voice, "I thought not."  
  
"Whatcha doing, Bling?" asked a voice from the doorway.  
  
"Hey, girls," he greeted them, before motioning with his head. "You'll have to ask Logan that. They're his legs," he told them with a smile.  
  
He suppressed a smile as he caught the look that Logan threw at him. He didn't believe in making things too easy for him and he liked to see Logan forced out of his comfort zone, having to deal with other people rather than just Max and those in his informant net. Bling thought it was far too easy for him to live the life of a recluse in his perfectly appointed apartment, centred solely on whatever Eyes Only case he was working on.  
  
Logan turned his head to see Genevieve looking at him with interest and remembered how surprisingly easy it had been to talk to her outside the department store.  
  
"Well," he started, wondering where to begin.  
  
"Simple'd be good," hinted Bling humorously.  
  
Logan threw another dark look at his good-natured trainer, and said, "Well."  
  
"That's twice you've said that," Genevieve pointed out helpfully.  
  
"Right," he agreed, still hoping for inspiration. He'd had the biological explanation spelled out to him ad infinitum after the shooting, but they'd never given him the simplified version.  
  
"It's like this," he said, as Bling swapped to his other leg, "if you don't regularly use parts of your body they go all stiff and if you let it go long enough they'd sort of lock up - so Bling moves my legs for me because I can't..."  
  
"And you don't want them to go stiff," Genevieve completed for him.  
  
"Yeah," he drawled slowly, looking across at her with slightly narrowed eyes to see how the explanation went down. He could see her mind working through it as she watched Bling.  
  
"Kinda like going rusty," she suggested suddenly in a matter of fact manner.  
  
"I guess," he agreed a little hesitantly, not sure he liked the analogy.  
  
"Logan's going rusty," Monique unexpectedly piped up in a sing song voice, doing little skips about the room.  
  
"Not if I can help it," laughed Bling, holding out a hand for Logan to grab onto to help pull him upright.  
  
"At least Genevieve understood," Logan pointed out with a certain amount of satisfaction to Bling.  
  
"I wanna a drink," Monique stated bluntly.  
  
"You hafta say _please,"_ Genevieve reminded her.  
  
"Please could I have a drink, Logan?" she asked very sweetly.  
  
"Come with me, Monique, I'll get you one," Bling offered. "You want some milk?" he asked her as he took her hand and led her into the kitchen.  
  
"What are you gonna do now?" Genevieve asked Logan.  
  
"Next I gotta work on my arms," he started to tell her as he positioned himself to use his weights, only to look up in surprise as Martin came storming through to the front door.  
  
"Martin. What are you doing?" Logan called sharply to him.  
  
Martin paused, one hand on the doorknob, before turning around decisively.  
  
Logan only needed to take one look at his face to have a pretty good idea of what had gone down while he'd been doing his reps.  
  
"Yeah, she's right," he stormed at Logan as he walked up to the workout table. "I screwed up. Big time – in everything! But it's too late to undo it all now, isn't it? _Isn't it?"_ he reiterated with fury, his voice going up another decibel, much to Genevieve's patent dislike as she moved closer to Logan, the sound of Martin's voice sending thrills of fear down her spine.  
  
Martin looked down at her, noticing her reaction, his own sense of shame manifesting itself as irritation with her. "No, I won't hurt your precious Logan," he stormed at her, misreading her reaction.  
  
Turning to Logan, he muttered, "The stench of perfection around here is getting a little too hard to take," before heading back to the door.  
  
"Martin!" Logan called after him, quickly edging himself along the table to get to the end where his wheelchair was.  
  
"_Martin, wait!"_ he called again, concentrating more on stopping his cousin than the transfer and nearly ending up on the floor in the process.  
  
"Whoa," said Bling, alerted by the loud voices, putting out a quick, firm hand to steady him. "Not so fast."  
  
"I gotta stop him," Logan ground out as he put his feet on the footrest.  
  
"Logan, the elevator's on its way to the bottom by now."  
  
Seeing Logan's expression, he added, "But I can go and check if you like."  
  
Logan stopped and took a deep breath. "No. Don't bother."  
  
_"Max,"_ Genevieve said with relief, running into her arms and unexpectedly sobbing loudly.  
  
"Genevieve, I'm sorry about all that," Logan said gently.  
  
"It wasn't your fault, Logan," she stammered between sobs. "I don't like your cousin. He scares me."  
  
He raised his eyes to Max's, but their expression was questioning and perhaps a little accusatory behind his steel framed glasses.  
  
Sensing their tension, Bling beat a diplomatic retreat to check on how Monique was doing.  
  
Max shrugged.  
  
"I take it that Martin skipped. Can't say I'm surprised."  
  
Logan held her gaze unflinchingly, finally breaking it after the third ring of his phone, but he made no move to pick it up, only half listening as the answering machine switched on.  
  
"You've reached the number you dialled."  
  
"Logan, are you there? It's Charlie, Emma Belding's roommate. I didn't know who else to call. Can you help me? They've ..."  
  
Logan had already swung around when he recognized the voice, but the unmistakable tremor in it spurred him on quicker as he headed the short distance to his phone in the study.  
  
"Charlie?" he spoke quickly into the phone. "It's Logan Cale. Has something happened?"  
  
"They've trashed everything," she wailed in a high-pitched voice. "I don't know what to do!"  
  
Logan thought quickly, then said to her in a calm voice, "Have you got neighbours you can stay with until I get over there?"  
  
"Yeah," she replied, sounding miserable.  
  
"Is anything missing?"  
  
"Yeah," her answer came back, inclining towards tears again.  
  
"Okay, don't tell me on the phone. I'll be around as soon as I can."  
  
"That was Emma Belding's roommate?" asked Max as he hung up, having encouraged Genevieve to go and find Monique and Bling while Logan was talking.  
  
"Someone broke in and robbed her," Logan told her a little heavily, quickly checking the progress his computer was making.  
  
"You got a plan?" asked Max a little edgily, standing at the entrance to his study by the computer, only too aware of the subtle barrier that she now found between them.  
  
"I told her I'd be around," he stated a little obviously, knowing full well that she had heard both sides of the conversation.  
  
"You gonna ask Bling to mind the kids?"  
  
He looked up at her. "I thought _you'd_ be best for that."  
  
"Logan, have you forgotten that Seth is wandering around beating up on people he thinks have taken Emma?"  
  
"Well, he knows_ I_ didn't take her," he stated decisively as he swung around and headed away from her, towards the kitchen.  
  
"You have no idea how stable he is. He could be a complete whack job for all you know. Maybe he broke into Charlie's," she added with a shrug, "And what about our FBI friend? How you gonna get past him?"  
  
Max watched him as he wordlessly paused in the doorway to his study.  
  
Eventually he spoke without turning around. "I'll talk to Bling."  
  
--------------------------------------------------- --------------  
  
"So?" Logan asked her shortly as she returned to the car.  
  
"He's gone," she stated as she climbed into her seat.  
  
"What d'you mean _he's gone?"_  
  
"As in poof, no longer there," she retorted with a snap of her fingers.  
  
"You're sure you..."  
  
"_Logan,"_ she cut in dryly.  
  
Logan took his hand off the wheel and sat back, clearly mystified by this latest revelation.  
  
"I guess there's a good chance they're following Martin instead," Max suggested bluntly.  
  
Logan wordlessly put the car in gear - he'd come to the same conclusion himself – and drove out into a pleasantly sunny afternoon.  
  
Max put up with his silence for some time before finally saying, "You mad at me?"  
  
"Should I be?" he asked abruptly, not taking his eyes off the road.  
  
"Logan, sooner or later Martin had to face up to reality, and what his responsibilities are in all this mess, instead o' just dumpin' it all on you."  
  
"You don't think it would have been kinder to let him reach that point by himself instead of pushing it upon him?" Logan suggested dryly, seriously worried that Martin may try to do something foolhardy in an effort to redeem himself.  
  
Max looked out her window.  
  
_Why did he have to always be the voice of reason?_  
  
She struggled with her thoughts for a while. It went against the grain to admit to him that she'd made a mistake.  
  
"I'm sorry, Logan," she said eventually. "I guess it just bummed my ass off that he knew what he was getting you into and he didn't tell you."  
  
She didn't miss the smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth.  
  
"Well, I guess he figured I might not help him if he did."  
  
She looked across at him suddenly. "That's _exactly _what he thought."  
  
Logan shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe you're right, too. I just hope he doesn't have some wild idea of doing something heroic."  
  
"Martin?" Max snorted. "I doubt if he's got it in him."  
  
"He is a _Cale_, you know. Some of us have a history of doin' dumb things."  
  
"Present company excluded," she told him promptly, but from his ironic expression she suspected that it was very much the present company he was thinking of.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------- --------------  
  
"Look at that - told you our luck had to change," Logan said, a touch triumphantly, as he pulled the Aztek into a parking space almost immediately in front of Charlie's apartment building.  
  
Max stood by his door, watching for traffic while he transferred. Fortunately the road was relatively quiet.  
  
The sidewalk was another matter entirely, though.  
  
They'd only just made it to the pavement when all of a sudden a youth came out from Charlie's building with the unmistakable air of one who is pursued – his face strained and white as he charged into the street, his legs pumping with increasing speed as he put every effort into his escape.  
  
Only a few seconds later his pursuers emerged – a ragtag lot brandishing sticks and bats.  
  
Max had instinctively taken a step closer to Logan as soon as she realized the chase was heading directly at them, but she immediately changed to full alert when she saw the tell tale glitter of sun on sharpened silver.  
  
Less than a year ago, in all likelihood she would have simply turned and walked the other way: _Ho hum – simply another day in post Pulse Seattle.  
_  
Instead she felt decidedly torn. _Sometimes caring was a bitch,_ she'd thought more than once.  
  
With Logan by her side, she was extremely reluctant to take on the gang, but could she do nothing and let them catch their quarry, as they inevitably would, with that ugly look of bloodlust on their faces?  
  
_"Max, they've got a knife,"_ Logan said warningly. "They'll catch him soon."  
  
She rolled her eyes. _Did he ever think of himself? Did he have to right every wrong?_  
  
_And since when did I come to think like him!_ she wondered with exasperation.  
  
The desperate boy was upon them now – scarcely throwing a glance their way in his attempts to outrun the gang.  
  
_Damn,_ thought Max. She doubted that Logan would be able to make it to Charlie's building before all hell broke loose and he'd be in the middle of it.  
  
The thought came to her that she could simply grab the back of Logan's chair and get him out of harms way whether he wanted it or not. _Of course he'd probably never speak to me again.  
_  
Making up her mind, she stepped forward with a definite sigh of aggravation.  
  
At precisely that point, the young guy in front stole a quick fearful glance behind him, only to find himself sprawled flat on the ground as his foot caught on the treacherous pavement.  
  
The gang surged forward with an almost primeval growl of approaching victory.  
  
"Stay back," she warned Logan curtly over her shoulder, her mind picking out with tactical precision the first gang member she should deter from his life of crime.  
  
_"Do not move. You are under police surveillance."  
_  
Max looked up. For the first time that she could remember she was genuinely glad to see the arrival of the hated hoverdrone.  
  
The affect of its appearance on the would-be attackers was almost comical as, without a word, they split in all directions, carefully keeping their heads down as they themselves now became the pursued.  
  
In a matter of seconds, the cracked, uneven sidewalk was deserted once more.  
  
Max exchanged a look of relief with Logan, then looked upwards as her eye was caught by a gaudy billboard on the building next to Charlie's apartment, extolling the virtues of the area in an effort to encourage a possible buyer.  
  
"Location, location, location," she remarked with an ironic tilt to her head at their, now peaceful, surroundings as he headed towards the double doors of Charlie's building.  
  
"Yup, that's what it's all about," Logan murmured dryly.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Charlie's place was a complete shambles.  
  
The orange door was as bright as ever, but that was where any similarities to their last visit ended.  
  
There was so much strewn about the floor that the purple carpet was barely discernible and Max and Charlie had to go before Logan and clear a pathway for him to be able to get his chair into the room.  
  
"Well, they were nothing if not thorough," Max noted regretfully as she took stock of the way every drawer had been pulled out and turned upside down, cupboards emptied, food tipped out, even the bean bags had been slit, the tiny white balls now a menace as they seemed to be spread all about the apartment.  
  
Even worse was the wanton destruction of all her crockery and anything else that could be smashed. It was as if whomever had done this had been determined to break everything in sight.  
  
The 'flower power' wallpaper now looked incongruously bright and happy amidst such destruction.  
  
"Sorry, Charlie," she offered with feeling.  
  
"Any idea what they were looking for?" Logan asked her quietly as he looked about with sympathetic eyes. He didn't relish the job Charlie had of cleaning this mess up and trying to restore it to some kind of order.  
  
"I don't know what they were looking for, but I know what they took," she answered.  
  
Max and Logan looked at her.  
  
"_My sketches,"_ she almost cried. "_They took all my sketches."  
_  
"Just the hand sketches?" Logan clarified, thinking of the few paintings he'd seen as well.  
  
"They were the only sketches I did," she told him, as if offended that he would suggest that she'd sketch anything else.  
  
"Years of work," she stated miserably, the heavy eye make-up she wore taking a beating with each fresh outbreak of tears.  
  
"Well, if it was someone looking for Charlie's sketch of Emma's hands, at least that's safe and sound at your crib," Max mentioned.  
  
"As long as it_ is_ safe there," Charlie added darkly.  
  
"It's kinda hard to break-in to my apartment," Logan told her with a glance in Max's direction, which she blithely ignored.  
  
"You got one of those security places? I don't blame you. Wise move. I'd have one myself if I could afford the money."  
  
She looked about her apartment sadly. "It's gonna take me years to get all my 70's stuff again."  
  
"Maybe you should go radical and change decades?" Max suggested.  
  
Charlie shook her head. "I'm just a 70's girl at heart – but it's my sketches that really upset me. Years of work...gone," she said sighing, the tears welling up in her eyes once more.  
  
Logan felt bad for her.  
  
"Maybe ... if you still want me to of course ...I could ..." Somehow the words wouldn't quite come out.  
  
"Logan! _Would you?"_ she smiled suddenly, turning to him and enthusiastically throwing her arms around his neck.  
  
"Well, when we've got this thing sorted out," he added, carefully avoiding Max's eyes and now hoping that it would take weeks to sort out Emma's disappearance.  
  
"Have you seen a guy called Seth around here lately?" he asked, keen to change the topic.  
  
"Seth's always around here," Charlie told them without a second thought.  
  
"Has he ever been violent?" Max asked intently.  
  
Charlie shook her head. "I've never seen anything, but, you know, you hear things sometimes," she told them as she leant down to pick up a cup that had escaped the carnage and appeared to be in one piece.  
  
"What kinda things?"  
  
The red headed girl stopped rummaging through the debris for a moment. "You know how people are. Just because he's a little ...simple ... some of the kids around here make fun of him. He doesn't always take it too well ...from what I've heard," she added in quickly.  
  
"Is his apartment on this floor?" Logan put in.  
  
"One below. He's got 408."  
  
"Mind if I check Emma's room?" Max asked.  
  
"Same mess as here," Charlie told her a little pathetically with a wave of her hand. "Look for yourself."  
  
Logan was puzzled by the amount of destruction. It was one thing to ransack a room, but this was more than that.  
  
Charlie moved about the room, sadly propping up bits and pieces that looked salvageable.  
  
"Well, here's something that escaped," Logan told her, holding up a bottle of red wine for her to see.  
  
"I'd offer you a drink if I could find a glass," she said with sad humour.  
  
"Hey, I'm sure there's one here somewhere," Logan told her, thinking a glass of wine might do her good. She was looking particularly pale – whether an affect of her, by now, hideously streaked eye make-up, he couldn't be sure.  
  
"Here's one," he told her, reaching down for a glass that was half-hidden amongst a snowdrift-like pile of beanbag filler.  
  
_"Ouch."  
_  
"_Don't put it in your mouth,"_ Charlie exclaimed quickly.  
  
Logan stopped with his finger halfway to his lips, about to suck what he had expected to be a little bit of blood away.  
  
"What did you cut it on?"  
  
"Guess the glass was broken after all," he told her, now examining the forefinger of his right hand. "Don't suppose you could find a bandaid amongst all this mess?"  
  
Charlie looked around pointedly.  
  
"Just a try. Kleenex?"  
  
"You'd better come through to the kitchen and wash it. You may have a few glass fragments in it," Charlie suggested, clearing a few more things out of his way so that he could get to the kitchen.  
  
"What do moms say about always carrying a clean handkerchief?" he murmured as she turned the faucet on and, to his surprise, in the manner of a nurse, grabbed his hand and held the cut finger under the stream.  
  
"What's up?" Max's voice came from the doorway.  
  
"Logan cut his finger," Charlie answered, pulling it out of the water and examining the wound. Once out of the water, the blood welled up again and began to drip quite steadily into the sink.  
  
"Oh, I thought it was something _serious,"_ Max commented with sweet disappointment as she examined the cut as well.  
  
"No. It's just a small cut that won't stop bleeding," Logan said quickly as he pulled his hand out from Charlie's grasp  
  
Turning to Charlie, Max said, "I saw a box of Kleenex on Emma's bed."  
  
Completely oblivious to any undercurrent at all, Charlie nodded as if remembering seeing them there herself and headed out to get them.  
  
"Hope this isn't the end of your career as a hand model," Max commiserated.  
  
Logan coloured a little.  
  
"I'm just doin' her a favour."  
  
"Sweet," she told him sassily, looking airily about the room.  
  
Logan held his hand out over the sink again, annoyed that something so little could bleed so much, when he felt Max's hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Logan. _Look."  
_  
Following the direction of her own unblemished finger, Logan found himself staring at Charlie's refrigerator.  
  
Beneath a daisy shaped magnet was a phone number and the name, _Vladimir.  
_  
"Russian - _coincidence?"_ she mouthed to him.  
  
Charlie returned at that moment with an intact Kleenex box and a clean hand towel.  
  
Ordinarily, and especially with Max's presence, he would have simply taken the towel and dried off his hand himself, wrapped a couple of Kleenex about his finger and been out the door, but instead he held it out for Charlie, who pulled up a kitchen chair and sat down opposite him.  
  
"Ever been a nurse?" he asked her as she took his hand once more, gently drying the area around the slightly jagged cut.  
  
Max leant against the fridge, watching his performance with interest, in her mind a memory flash of another Logan striding into Crash, full of the confidence that a handsome face, taut body and a mountain of money could bring.  
  
"I was a manicurist ... close," she laughed, looking into his eyes and a little startled at the depths she found there.  
  
"You know, I can tell a lot about a person from their hands," she told him, inexplicably feeling suddenly a little shy.  
  
"Yeah?" he said encouragingly.  
  
Charlie looked down at the hand she held in hers. "This is a strong hand," she told him, turning it over and gently running her thumb along his knuckles, "for a strong personality. You like to get your own way, and you usually do," she added with a smile, letting her gaze rest on his face again. Almost wonderingly she said, "I think you're a very powerful man."  
  
It was Max who broke the silence.  
  
"Do we pay our fifty dollars now?" she asked lightly.  
  
Charlie laughed. "I used to set up booths at fairs when I was a student. It helped pay my way through college."  
  
"Did you ever do this for Emma?" Logan asked, gently taking his hand from hers.  
  
"No. She said she didn't believe any of it." Charlie smiled at them ingeniously. "What can I say? I make most of it up ... _most _of the time," she added with a distinctly flirtatious glance at Logan.  
  
Logan didn't waste the opportunity.  
  
"Charlie, are we the only ones who've shown any interest in Emma since she disappeared?"  
  
Charlie bit her lip as if unsure as to how she should answer.  
  
"We only want to do what's best for Emma," he added persuasively, letting his voice drop to what Max thought was a particularly attractive, throaty whisper.  
  
Charlie risked looking into his eyes again, obviously more than satisfied by what she found there.  
  
"There was another man, a few days before you showed up."  
  
_He was good,_ Max had to admit admiringly, as with a cynical smile she remembered another time - Logan's breath seductively warm against her neck, the ornate mirror merely the backdrop to his intricately woven plot. Even know she cringed a little at how quickly she'd fallen for it, how easy it had been for him to captivate her.  
  
"A friend of Emma's?"  
  
Charlie got up and went over to the refrigerator, pulling off the scrap of paper with the name on it.  
  
"This guy called. He said he worked with Emma and they were all worried about her."  
  
"Did you believe that?" Logan asked.  
  
Charlie grinned a little self-consciously. "For a coupla hundred dollars I'll believe any story."  
  
"I'm guessing he wanted you to tip him off if anyone came asking about Emma?"  
  
"Yeah, but after today I'm wondering if I've done the right thing," she admitted a lot less confidently.  
  
Logan's eyes met Max's.  
  
"You got any friends outta town?" Logan asked her seriously.  
  
Charlie nodded a little nervously.  
  
"Maybe this would be a good time for you to visit them. Just for a while. Until this whole thing blows over," Logan smiled encouragingly at her.  
  
"You're dripping again," Charlie told him, indicating a couple of red spots on his cargo pants.  
  
"Oops," Logan remembered, grabbing two of the Kleenex to wrap around his finger.  
  
"Am I in some kind of danger?" she queried reluctantly.  
  
"I'm not sure," Logan admitted, "but we've had a few strange things happen to us since we tried to find her."  
  
Charlie nodded. "Well, I've got your number. I'll look you up when I get back, huh?"  
  
----------------------------------------------------------- ------------  
  
"That was pretty smooth in there," Max complimented him in an ambiguous tone as they made their way down the hallway.  
  
Logan shrugged a little self-consciously. For a while he'd let himself forget quite a few things.  
  
"You think we should pay Seth a little visit while we're here?" Max suggested.  
  
"The thought had crossed my mind."  
  
Max looked down at him while they waited for the elevator, thinking of his good-natured promise to let Charlie sketch his hands, vaguely aware of an emotion she had never experienced until she'd met Logan Cale.  
  
_It's a rough neighbourhood,_ she told herself. _I'd better make sure I go with him... Just in case.  
  
_TBC


	16. Expectations

Many, many thanks to all those who reviewed – they were very much appreciated as always.  
  
Special thanks to Kyre for her excellent and thorough beta. She stepped in and kindly agreed to beta for me at the last minute when Alaidh was unable to – and scored my longest chapter to date in the process!  
  
And of course a big thanks to Alaidh who proved invaluable in finding a missed typo and for her many words of wisdom!  
  
CHAPTER 16  
  
-------------------------------------------------------  
  
The elevator lurched once, then began its short but jerky way down to the floor below.  
  
Max made a face.  
  
"Another smooth ride in a rusty crate."  
  
Logan looked around, taking in the faded, cigarette-burned carpet and dirty walls. At some stage, someone had tried to keep abreast of the continual stream of juvenile witticisms that were scrawled on the faded, fake wood panels, but it looked like they had finally accepted the inevitability of it and left the miscreants to their creative ways.  
  
"You know how many cages like this one I have to put up with every day? I tell you, Logan, there's hardly a decent elevator left in Seattle."  
  
"Yeah, well, do me a favour and don't tell me about it – I'd rather live in blissful ignorance."  
  
She looked down at him and smiled a little at his dry tone, then turned back to the door, realizing that it hadn't opened.  
  
"_What the..."_  
  
"Yeah, that happened to me the first time. Seth said you just have to press the 'open' button a few times," he told her, glancing at the wall as he tried to make sense of a particularly bizarre group of words.  
  
"And...?" she asked sweetly, as nothing happened.  
  
Logan turned and shrugged. "It worked for him," he muttered, looking around again and noticing for the first time how unpleasantly stuffy the air in there was.  
  
Noticing his glance, Max murmured provokingly, "You got a problem with small, stuffy, confined spaces as well as heights?"  
  
"As a matter of fact – no."  
  
Max pushed the button with an impatient prod for the fourth time.  
  
"_Logan..."_ she warned him, as if somehow this was his fault.  
  
"Let me look at it."  
  
Moving forward, Logan gave the button one push, only to look up with a certain amount of satisfaction when the doors shuddered a little, then slid open.  
  
"I wouldn't look too smug yet, hotshot," she told him smartly. "We still gotta get down in this later."  
  
------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------  
  
If anything, the floor below was even less prepossessing than the one above, certainly if the smell was anything to go by.  
  
"Ugh, what died?" Max grimaced, tempted to put her hand over her nose.  
  
"Don't joke about it," Logan warned her as he pushed his way toward Apartment 408. "The way things have gone lately, it'd be just our luck to find a room full o'bodies."  
  
"What are you gonna say to Seth anyway? Hey, Seth, how come you've been beating up on my cousin? Maybe I should thank him," she then pondered aloud, not entirely joking.  
  
_"Max."_  
  
"Just a thought," she returned quickly with far too innocent an expression.  
  
Max reached the door to Seth's apartment first, and turned to Logan with an enquiring look.  
  
"Go ahead," Logan said quietly.  
  
Max knocked on the door, then stood in the hallway, listening intently for any noise from within.  
  
When there was no answer, she tried again. After waiting another moment or two, she put her hand on the doorknob.  
  
Logan cast a quick glance at either end of the hallway, but apparently no one else enjoyed the smell wafting down the hallway, and the other doors remained firmly closed.  
  
By the time Logan had looked back to Max, she had picked the lock and was turning to him with a warning finger held to her lips, then a hand raised to tell him to wait there.  
  
Feeling curiously on edge, Logan waited for her return, his eyes doing several sweeps of the hallway this time. The thought crossed his mind that he should have some excuse made up about why he was loitering in hallways, but all he could think of was the fact that he hoped Max would hurry because the horrible stench was beginning to get to him. It made him think how unpleasant her life as a bike messenger must be at times – having to deal with Normal and his idiosyncrasies, unreliable elevators, smelly apartment blocks – probably smelly people, if it came to that. They were sobering thoughts; he knew he had a lot in life to be thankful for.  
  
"Hey."  
  
He looked up, feeling a little relieved to see Max signalling him to enter.  
  
Once he was through the doorway, she stepped behind him, checked the hallway herself, and closed the door.  
  
Logan took a tentative sniff of air, then a larger one as he realized thankfully that the repulsive aroma was not emanating from Seth's room. Mind you, once he looked around, he wouldn't have been surprised if it had. For a non-ransacked room, it looked particularly ransacked.  
  
"Guess his mommy never taught him to pick up after himself," Max said quietly, unconsciously mirroring his thoughts.  
  
"At least he's left a clear path," Logan replied, sticking to the only area not covered with clothing, old papers, pizza boxes (obviously a favourite meal), dirty dishes, and anything else he could possibly think of that should have been put away, thrown in the trash, or washed, and hadn't been.  
  
"He's kinda neat with his newspapers," remarked Max, motioning to a pile of them that were more or less stacked up in some semblance of order in a corner of the living room.  
  
Logan wandered over and started flicking through the stack that rose as high as the back of his chair. "They don't seem to be anything special," he started to say, only to stop abruptly and pull his hand back hastily when he disturbed a particularly ugly, fat black spider that had probably been living there undisturbed for some time.  
  
_"What_...you find something?" Max asked quickly.  
  
"No, just old newspapers," Logan replied casually, backing away from the pile.  
  
"What's with all the half-eaten food?" Max wondered aloud, looking at yet another plate of pizza scraps that were growing a lovely colony of fungus.  
  
Logan simply raised an eyebrow. "What's with _any_ of this?" he commented, looking around the gloomy room. There was no bright wallpaper here. The single window was covered in curtains that looked like they were held together by the years' worth of dust that clung to them.  
  
"Can we turn on a light, or open the curtains or something?" Logan suggested, finding the half-light hopeless for his vision.  
  
Max strode over to the door and turned on the solitary overhead light that hung down from the ceiling.  
  
"The man's a complete pig," Max said with disgust. "You think we're gonna find anything here that would help us? I guess it's just possible that Emma Belding could be living under one of those piles of old newspapers and dirty clothes."  
  
"I'm half expecting to find the remains of a wedding banquet, complete with mice and cobwebs," Logan whispered wryly. "There's a distinctly 'Dickensian' feel to all this."  
  
"I don't think Seth is old enough to have been jilted at the altar and then spent the next twenty years among the ruins of his bridal table."  
  
"Give him time," Logan muttered.  
  
Suddenly Max put an imperative finger to her lips.  
  
Logan had heard nothing, but he trusted Max's heightened senses in circumstances like this. Frowning a little, he watched her as she silently made her way over to the bedroom door.  
  
Then he heard it too.  
  
Instinctively Logan put his hands to his wheels. He didn't like the idea of her walking into the room – unpleasant surprises seemed to have a habit of lurking behind closed doors.  
  
Max paused an instant, almost at the door to Seth's bedroom, then quickly turned to Logan with another warning look that said, "_Stay there."  
_  
Wishing he'd brought his gun with him, Logan watched her as she disappeared through the doorway. His eyes widened a little as he heard a distinctive thump, as though something was hitting the wall with force.  
  
Ignoring Max's advice, he pushed forward, only to stop short as she emerged, holding a very large, slightly stunned rat by the tail.  
  
"Well, he may not have the wedding cake, but he's got the mice and the rats and the cobwebs..."  
  
"And the spiders," Logan added, looking at the rodent with obvious distaste.  
  
"Guess you don't have these at your place - you lead a deprived life," Max commiserated him as she saw his expression.  
  
Logan threw her a sidelong glance, always a little touchy about his wealth, then just managed to stop himself from instinctively rolling back a little as Max let the rat down and it headed straight towards him, at the last second veering off to head for the pile of newspapers and squeeze itself safely behind them.  
  
"I think we should get outta here," Logan called to her softly as she disappeared into the bathroom to wash her hands.  
  
She came out triumphantly a few minutes later, holding up a box of Band- Aids.  
  
"Max, I can't steal Seth's things," he protested a little.  
  
Max looked at him. "Logan, we've already done the whole 'breaking and entering' dealio. This is the part that's_ s'posed_ to come next." Then adding with dryness, "_Logan, it's just a Band-Aid."  
_  
"It's _Seth's_ Band-Aid, and besides, it's probably not even sterile."  
  
Ignoring his protests, Max walked up to him, pulling a Band-Aid from its packet in a businesslike manner. She peeled back the paper to reveal the sticky edges.  
  
Giving in, Logan pulled off the two Kleenex he'd wound tightly around his finger.  
  
"It's probably not even bleeding now," he muttered as he realized she expected him to put his finger out for her.  
  
"It is quite deep, Logan," she murmured as she wound the strip around the cut, which, as Logan had said, had stopped bleeding.  
  
"So what else was in the bedroom?" he asked, clearing his throat a little as he found to his discomfort that the sensation of Max holding onto his hand was totally different from the one of Charlie holding onto his hand.  
  
"Yeah, I was going to check on that," she remembered suddenly, turning around. "There were some handwritten notes on a bedside table next to his phone."  
  
Logan watched her disappear into the bedroom again, casting another wary glance around the room while he waited.  
  
"You'd be amazed with this," Max said, popping her head around the bedroom door. "Take a look."  
  
Logan moved forward curiously, stopping at the door to Seth's bedroom.  
  
It was a small room, dominated by the king-size double bed that stood in the middle of it, but what was surprising was the almost total lack of mess in this room. The bed was made, and the top of the bureau was generally free of trash. It was like stepping into another apartment entirely.  
  
"I _am _amazed," he acknowledged, pausing at the door of the cramped room.  
  
"Logan, _look at this_," Max said intently as she scanned the papers in her hand.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Max wordlessly walked around the bed to the doorway and handed him the notes she'd found.  
  
Logan peered at them, but the light was bad. Putting them in his lap he pushed back a little until he was back under the dreary light in the living room, then perused the papers once more.  
  
"Murdoch's Bar?" he said quietly.  
  
"Yeah, it's a dive next to South Market."  
  
"I know that - I meant why would Seth be hangin' out at Murdoch's?"  
  
"The second page might tell you."  
  
Logan studied the second page carefully.  
  
_Did it mean what he thought it did?  
_  
He looked up, not quite willing to speak out his assumptions.  
  
"Well?" Max finally prompted him.  
  
"These are the locations of the places they found the severed arms."  
  
"You think he's doin' his own detective work?" wondered Max. "...or maybe he likes to keep track of where he left his spare body parts," she added bluntly.  
  
Logan shook his head. "I can't believe Seth's killing those girls."  
  
"What, just because he helps you in the elevator he becomes an all-around good guy? _I think not."  
_  
"Max, you met him ...he seem like a killer to you?"  
  
"Logan, all I know is that he's big enough and strong enough to take out almost anyone he wants to with his bare hands."  
  
"Just because he's physically able to do it doesn't make him guilty."  
  
"I'm just saying make sure you don't bump into him in a dark alley."  
  
"You'd better put these back before we leave," Logan murmured a little distractedly.  
  
Max raised her eyes a little, but did as he said.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------  
  
The elevator responded perfectly to all their demands on the way down and they made it back to the car with a surprising lack of excitement, which, Max had to reflect, suited her fine. If the next few days remained similarly boring, she'd be more than happy. A week of some nice, dull Eyes Only 'break in and steal a disc'-type dealios looked remarkably good right now.  
  
Her one goal in life presently was to see the girls reunited with their parents and Martin out of Logan's hair, one way or another.  
  
The sun that had shone so pleasantly earlier in the afternoon had beaten a hasty retreat behind a huge bank of ominous grey clouds. The sudden drop in temperature was noticeable, and even Max noticed that the denim jacket she wore was not protection enough against the biting wind that had sprung up.  
  
The traffic was a lot heavier now; Logan would have to get in the passenger side and swing across.  
  
"You want me to stow your chair in the back?" she asked him, to save him the bother of dismantling it.  
  
"Logan?" she asked again when he didn't respond.  
  
He looked up at her, and she could see his mind replaying the words that he'd only half-listened to.  
  
"Sure," he agreed as he unlocked the door, then as an afterthought, "Thanks."  
  
When he'd driven for ten minutes through the slow-moving traffic without saying a word, as if he were on auto-pilot, she finally said, "So, are you masterminding a plan to blow up 'The World's Biggest Coke Can?"  
  
Logan, who'd just stopped for a red light, turned his head very slowly. "Should I be?"  
  
"It _is_ pretty ugly. Then again you might be planning on blowing up The World's Biggest Fire Hydrant, Or The World's Biggest Piggy Bank or even The World's Biggest Cookie Jar," she finished thoughtfully.  
  
She definitely had his attention now – even if it was simply annoyance with her.  
  
"Do I even want to know where these fascinating treasures are to be found?" he asked with careful restraint.  
  
"Well, while you were probably touring Europe with your folks, I was checking out our Northern neighbours. Would you believe it, there's also..."  
  
"I don't wanna know about it," he interrupted repressively.  
  
Max smiled a little.  
  
"Cool," she agreed, then a little more aggressively, "So why have you gone so quiet?"  
  
Logan debated the pros and cons of telling her. His instincts warned him against it.  
  
"I guess I'm thinking about a lot o' things," he told her vaguely.  
  
"You care to be a little more specific?"  
  
Throwing caution to the wind, Logan admitted, "I'd like to talk to Seth."  
  
"Not a problem. He seems to be hangin' out at South Market. No reason I can't swing down there and find him."  
  
Sensing Logan's hesitation, she said, "What?"  
  
"Max, I don't wanna scare him off. If he knows anything at all about Emma, we need to keep him on our side."  
  
"What, you think I can't handle him?"  
  
"I think if he sees you or gets wind of the fact that you're looking for him, he's gonna bolt."  
  
"Well, he can't bolt faster than me," Max told him with a certain amount of satisfaction.  
  
"If you remember, the first time you met him you knocked him to the floor and shoved him up against a wall."  
  
"You think he holds a grudge?"  
  
"Max," Logan said with exasperation at her refusal to see it his way, "I can't afford to alienate him. He may be our only link to Emma. Did you wonder why his bedroom was so clean?" he added on a more thoughtful note.  
  
"You think they're an item?" asked Max, wrinkling her nose at the thought. The young giant hadn't made a particularly big impression on her, other than his remarkable strength and size.  
  
Logan shook his head with a touch of impatience. "I just said _I'm wondering,_ that's all."  
  
"_Wondering_ I'm cool with - it's the other stuff you've got in your mind I'm not so sure about."  
  
"Max, if he thinks for a moment that we mean anything other than Emma Belding's good ..."  
  
_"Yeah, yeah. I get it, Logan_."  
  
By this time they were almost at his apartment building.  
  
"Any of our friends in suits around?" Logan asked her, thankful to change the subject.  
  
Max studied the area carefully. "Not unless they're invisible," she finally replied.  
  
Logan's eyes went to his phone. "No word from Martin."  
  
Max felt a slight stab of guilt.  
  
"Maybe he called the other line," she offered, but in her heart she doubted it.  
  
Logan nodded imperceptibly, as much an acknowledgement of her words as the sentiment he knew she was offering behind them.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------ ----------------  
  
They were greeted with enthusiasm by both girls when they came in, and to a lesser extent by Bling.  
  
"How'd it go?" the trainer asked, trying to hush Monique a little at the same time.  
  
"Well, Charlie got what she wanted," Max told him blandly as she moved to Monique and picked her up.  
  
"You girls had fun with Bling?"  
  
Bling looked toward Logan, but wasn't the least surprised when no answer was forthcoming from that direction and he headed straight into his computer.  
  
"Max, _you promised_," Monique was now insisting very loudly.  
  
"Apparently you told her that Logan would give her a ride. She hasn't stopped talking about it all afternoon," Bling told Max with a slightly harassed smile as they walked through to the kitchen.  
  
"I did," she admitted, looking tentatively over at Logan, who was already busy checking on the program that was still attempting to hack into the witness protection files. He had the same distracted air about him that he'd had ever since they'd left Seth's place. Instinctively, she knew this was not the time to ask him.  
  
"How about if Logan gives you a ride at bedtime? Would that be fun?" Max asked the child hopefully, sitting her down on one of the kitchen counters.  
  
Monique's expression said that it would be anything but fun.  
  
"Wow, that'd be great, Monique," put in Genevieve enthusiastically, doing her part to brainwash the child that later would be much better than now.  
  
Monique looked unconvinced for a long moment, but after some further persuasion she eventually gave in.  
  
"Looks like the program's almost through," Logan told Max a few moments later, the barest tinge of hope creeping into his voice as he wheeled out to the kitchen. They so needed something to go right.  
  
"So, I'd better get some dinner happening," he murmured, going over to the refrigerator.  
  
"I'll bathe the girls... well, Monique," she added, seeing the look of protest on Genevieve's face.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------- ------------------  
  
Logan was saved from having to give Monique a ride on his lap when the child virtually fell asleep at the dinner table. Genevieve, definitely feeling more relaxed with them, while still cautious to not reveal anything of great import, managed to chat on quite happily about this and that.  
  
Max, smiling at something she had said, looked across at Logan. He'd been staring at his almost-finished plate for some time.  
  
She suspected he'd eaten it without even tasting it. _What a waste.  
_  
Max had just picked up Monique to carry her to bed when she heard an unusual kind of popping sound and saw Logan suddenly put his head up. With a tense expression, he backed up from the table and quickly headed toward his computer.  
  
"Oh, no," she heard him mutter as she followed him and saw that his computer screen was now ominously blank.  
  
"Power surge?" Max was about to ask when the entire apartment was unexpectedly plunged into darkness.  
  
Logan sat in the darkness, not trusting himself to speak with Genevieve close by.  
  
His computer had now gone completely dead.  
  
Max looked immediately toward Logan. The expression on his face said it all. Those hours of work trying to hack into Witness Protection – useless. He'd have to start all over again – or start looking into the Russian connection.  
  
Genevieve, who had been sitting next to Logan, immediately jumped up and tried to find him. Heading in the direction of his study, she put a hand out to feel for him, thankfully finding his arm, then his shoulder.  
  
"Is it something bad? What happened?" she asked nervously.  
  
"Just another brownout," Logan told her tersely, still trying to hold onto his patience as he tried to get his head around this latest calamity.  
  
"Nothing to worry about, Genevieve," Bling called to her, "I'll get some candles, and we'll have light in no time."  
  
"I'll put Monique into bed then come and help," Max told them, the only one untroubled by the sudden plunge into darkness.  
  
"How will she see?" Genevieve asked Logan, only just beginning to be able to make out the outline of his face as her eyes gradually adjusted.  
  
"There's a little bit of light coming through the windows," Logan explained, looking about as he spoke and wondering dryly where this mythical light might be. The apartment was now incredibly dark. "Max has good eyesight," he added, noting the dullness of his own voice. He reflected sourly it was damned hard to not let his frustration show.  
  
"There you go," said Bling, striking a match and putting it to a candle that Logan kept on top of the wine rack for emergencies such as these.  
  
Logan turned his face away for the moment, tightening his lips as he felt another surge of disappointment The darkness had been more suited to his present frame of mind.  
  
Perhaps knowing a little of what Logan was thinking, the trainer said to Genevieve, "How about you come and light some more candles for me?"  
  
Taking the solitary one that was lit, he led the child into the kitchen where Logan kept other candles in a drawer.  
  
Logan stared stonily ahead as he was slowly left in a deepening darkness as Bling walked away, his candle casting weird and wonderful shadows as he went.  
  
He'd just let out a particularly explosive, angry sigh when Max's voice said, "Sorry about the programme."  
  
His shoulders jerked suddenly - the surprise she had given him doing absolutely nothing for his present frame of mind.  
  
Max struck the match she held along the side of the box then watched with fascination as the one flame quickly flared to become two as the wick from the candle she'd grabbed from the kitchen ignited.  
  
With enough light to see by, Logan pushed himself slowly towards the windows and looked out at the unrelenting darkness of the night, his own face reflecting back to him against the windowpane.  
  
"Looks like I'll have to change my tack after all," he finally murmured, aware of Max's presence behind him.  
  
"The power surge blew out the UPS?" she asked gently.  
  
"Yup," he replied in a dry, upbeat tone that fooled no one.  
  
"But the computer itself is okay - you could always run your program again as soon as the power comes on," Max suggested.  
  
"Yeah. Sure."  
  
She winced a little at his tone of voice.  
  
Genevieve came through at that point with another candle and placed it on the glass-topped table in front of the couch.  
  
"Bling told me to ask if you wanted a drink," she said, coming around to stand next to Max. When they both declined, she said with big eyes, "Bling's gonna make me a hot chocolate."  
  
Logan waited until he could no longer hear her retreating steps, then said abruptly, "I gotta talk to Seth."  
  
"Fine. I'll find him and bring him back here."  
  
"_Max..."_ Logan began, only to stop as the noise of his phone ringing echoed through his apartment.  
  
Hoping it was Martin, he quickly swung around as Max hastily stepped out of his way.  
  
Max leaned against the window, aware of the cool feel of the glass against her back, and watched Logan in his study. The news didn't appear to be good. The shortness of the one-syllable words told their own story. "Right...fine...let me know."  
  
He didn't turn back around immediately. _Not Martin_, she suddenly thought – more concerned with how Logan would react should any harm have befallen Martin than for the man himself.  
  
"_Hey?"_ she queried gently across the room, hesitant to go too close in case it_ was_ bad news and it was somehow her fault.  
  
"That was security downstairs. Apparently the emergency generator hasn't kicked in."  
  
Max looked at him. "That means their security is inoperative?" she asked uncertainly, walking through to his study.  
  
"It means the elevator's out of action," he told her evenly.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I guess you get to find Seth your way after all," he congratulated her ironically.  
  
She thought this wasn't the time to point out that her way was probably the safer one.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------- -------------  
  
Logan sat by the windows in the living room, but tonight the usually impressive vista was almost nonexistent. The high-rise area remained in darkness and the only light that Logan could see in the other buildings was the scattered emergency lighting in any buildings that had a working generator, or sometimes the telltale flicker of light from a candle in a window.  
  
He'd blown out the candle that Genevieve had left on the coffee table, and had taken off his glasses, preferring the almost total darkness. With no view to distract him from his thoughts, Logan leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes probing the darkness where somewhere he knew his feet to be, vaguely aware of the chink of glass and crockery as Bling and Genevieve washed the dishes.  
  
He'd watched Max leave with mixed feelings.  
  
He knew she was the best one to locate Seth, the only one really, but he still felt the strong need to retain the young man's confidence in them. Max holding him in a headlock was hardly likely to inspire trust.  
  
_Then there was Martin._ There'd been no word from him all day, and Logan's mind was already preparing him with 'How to tell Jonas and Margo their son is dead' scenarios. Bennett's wedding had only been weeks ago – _How do I tell him his brother's dead?  
_  
Suddenly, his decision to not tell Jonas the complete truth appeared a conceited mistake. Martin was his son after all. _Surely he had every right to know what mess his son was in?  
_  
A distant flicker of light somewhere outside caught his attention. Outside..._where Max was_.  
  
She was going home to pick up her motorcycle, then heading down to Murdoch's Bar, hoping to find Seth hanging there.  
  
_So here I am sitting safe and sound, while Max checks out one of the worst parts of Seattle – alone.  
_  
"Your candle went out."  
  
Logan grabbed his glasses from his knee, slipping them on one-handed as Genevieve approached with a burning candle. He didn't want to tell her that he'd blown it out. He doubted that a child would understand that sometimes the darkness could be more of a friend than the light.  
  
The child gave him a big smile, and Logan felt a little ashamed of his own maudlin thoughts. _What evidence did he have that Martin was dead, even hurt?_ In all probability, his cousin had simply found himself a comfortable hotel for the night, and Max could take care of herself. She didn't need him worrying about her.  
  
"Hey, why don't you pull up a few cushions," he smiled at Genevieve. "Nothin' else to do."  
  
He put his hand out for the fat candle she held in her hand, and placed it on the window ledge while she did as he suggested, returning with three of the cushions from the couch. She put them on the floor in front of Logan and sat down on them cross-legged.  
  
"Comfy?" he asked her.  
  
Genevieve nodded, then turned her head to look outside.  
  
"Not much of a view tonight," Logan told her. "Too dark."  
  
"Is Max your girlfriend?" Genevieve asked unexpectedly, taking Logan completely by surprise.  
  
"No, we're just friends," he replied quickly.  
  
"Is she your best friend?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess you could say that," he finally admitted slowly, smiling at her childish way of simplifying everything. He couldn't imagine any of his other friends throwing themselves from buildings to rescue him.  
  
"You hurt your finger," she suddenly stated, looking at the one with the Band-Aid that rested on the wheel of his chair.  
  
Logan went to shrug and say, "No big deal," when she looked up at him and asked, "_How did it happen?"  
_  
Intuitively he knew she wasn't talking about his cut finger.  
  
As though a little afraid of his reaction, she said quickly, "Max said you don't like to talk about it."  
  
Logan rubbed the back of his neck where the hair had been cut short, then let his hand slide down to the top of his shoulders, before letting go.  
  
When he looked down, she was still looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and hopefulness. At the same time, he had the distinct impression that if he'd simply said, No, I don't wanna talk about it, she would have said, okay.  
  
Logan took a deep breath. _Max was right; he didn't like to talk about it. The whole thing was an issue he did his best to ignore as much as possible.  
_  
"I was trying to help a little girl - about your age - and her mom get away from some bad guys," he told her, but to his own ears this sounded far too altruistic. "Well, it was more like they were doing me a favour," he admitted instead, "and because of that, the bad men wanted to hurt them."  
  
"Did you save them?" she asked, and even Logan could see that she was hoping he'd say yes.  
  
"No. _I got shot,"_ he told her a little brutally. "I didn't do anything ...for quite a long time after that."  
  
"What happened to the little girl and her mommy?" she asked in a hushed tone.  
  
"The mother got away, but Max saved the little girl," he told her, careful to keep his tone even. "Max is good at things like that," he added in as matter-a-fact a manner as he could.  
  
Genevieve had gone very quiet.  
  
_Well, it's good for her to know the truth – I'm no hero_, he thought grimly.  
  
Genevieve suddenly looked up at him, but instead of her long, fair hair, he saw Sophy's long, wavy, dark hair...brown eyes instead of blue...another childish face that had looked up at him with trust.  
  
He turned away from her quickly, returning to the safety of his motionless feet. They didn't ask him questions he didn't want to answer or force him to remember situations he had purposefully tried to forget.  
  
_"I'm sorry, Logan."_  
  
His eye caught the slight movement and he shifted his gaze to see one of her hands resting on his knee.  
  
"My mom says I ask too many questions," she said in a small voice.  
  
"Hey, it's okay. It's just that sometimes remembering is ..." his voice trailed off a little.  
  
"My mom says the same thing. She wouldn't let me talk about the time Monique..." Suddenly she stopped, her eyes going large.  
  
"Genevieve, _did something happen to Monique_?" Logan asked with sudden interest, but he saw the reserved look back on Genevieve's face. He wondered a little wryly why she could extract secrets from him with such ease, yet be so good at keeping her own.  
  
If only he had a little more to go on. Even with the suspicion that the family was in some kind of witness protection program, he'd purposefully not pressed the child for more details about her life. She was being obedient to the things her parents had told her, and had obviously had it drummed into her so thoroughly that he felt to press her for details would be just way too stressful for her.  
  
Now, however, he felt a subtle change in her. _It was as though she wanted to talk.  
_  
"Genevieve, I want to find your mommy and daddy, but I don't know where to look because I don't know enough about them. I won't tell any of their secrets to the wrong people," he promised her.  
  
"The bad men took Monique away," she told him quietly. "Mommy cried for a long time."  
  
"When did this happen?" Logan asked intently.  
  
"When Monique was only little - about one and a half years ago."  
  
"But the men brought her back?"  
  
Genevieve smiled a little as she remembered this part. "We went to a park, and she was there on a baby swing. She screamed when we tried to take her off," she laughed a little through some unshed tears.  
  
"Sounds like Monique," Logan grinned at her. "How long was Monique gone for?" he asked, his voice still gentle.  
  
Genevieve thought back. "About four days I think."  
  
"Did things change for you after that?" he asked her, a wealth of meaning behind the simple words.  
  
The child lifted wide, solemn eyes to his face, and nodded just once.  
  
Logan returned her nod and gave her one of his wide smiles, covering her hand with his own.  
  
"You did right to tell me, Genevieve. Your mom won't be angry," he assured her.  
  
"Are you still mad at me?"  
  
Feeling bad that he'd made her think such a thing, Logan told her quickly, "I was never mad at you. I'm mad at myself sometimes," he admitted with uncharacteristic honesty.  
  
"I've been thinking about it. What you said...about the other little girl."  
  
Logan looked at her with a faint smile hovering at the corner of his mouth. The child continually surprised him.  
  
"What words of wisdom do you have for me this time?" he wondered to her out loud with a touch of suspicion.  
  
Getting up on her knees, and putting a hand on his arm that rested on the wheel of his chair, she explained to him, "My mom always says that friends help each other."  
  
"I can't fault that logic," Logan agreed.  
  
Genevieve smiled widely at him. "That's good," she enthused, "because if Max did it, it's just like you did it."  
  
Not quite able to follow the logic of this one, he tried a polite nod of understanding, but she obviously wasn't fooled for a moment.  
  
"Well, Max is your best friend, and that's what best friends do for each other," she told him simply.  
  
"Right," Logan responded with a slight frown.  
  
"So...if Max does something for you because you can't, then it's just the same as if you did it," she concluded happily, "_because she's your best friend_."  
  
"I guess so," Logan agreed with a slightly amused, but definitely thoughtful expression.  
  
"Genevieve, Max said you had to be in bed by now," Bling called to her from the kitchen.  
  
Her face fell at the thought, and she looked to Logan hopefully.  
  
"No, you've gotta got to bed. It's late," he told her, "and I don't want Max mad at me," he added with a grin.  
  
"She wouldn't be mad at you, Logan. She's only mad at Martin."  
  
Thinking of a number of times when Max had been angry with him, not to mention the times when she'd been plain furious with him he let that one go by with a firm, "_Good night."_  
  
Plunged once more back into semi-darkness when Genevieve took the candle with her, he frowned a little, remembering the child's words.  
  
Why had Max shown up that night at the hospital when Bruno had tried to take him out a second time? The rescuing-Sophy part he could understand – but Max's version of events that night had always confused him a little. Why had she gone back to his apartment? She'd told him it was because she was trying to ID Anselmo, but what did Anselmo mean to her at the time?  
  
Could there be some truth to what Genevieve said? Had she done some of it, even the tiniest bit..._for him?_  
  
Logan looked up as the phone rang, but didn't bother to move as Bling picked it up.  
  
The call was brief.  
  
"Logan, they've got the elevator working again."  
  
"Great!" Logan enthused with relief. Sitting around without even his computer to distract him was beginning to wear very thin. "You'll watch the girls for me?"  
  
Bling looked at him with suspicion.  
  
"You goin' out?" he asked with surprise.  
  
"I need to talk to Seth. There's a good chance if he sees Max first, he'll make a run for it," he explained, the enthusiasm that a purpose brings strong in his voice.  
  
"I don't like to burst your bubble, but I thought I heard Max saying she was gonna bring him back here. She wanted to do this alone."  
  
"Max doesn't know Seth," Logan explained a little tersely as he headed past the kitchen toward his bedroom.  
  
_"South Market Street at night..."_ Bling let the words hang in the air.  
  
"I'll take my gun, and I'll meet up with Max. Besides, she hasn't found Seth yet. She told me she'd call me when she did, so she could probably do with some help," he told Bling as he shrugged himself into his leather jacket.  
  
"Maybe she couldn't get to a phone..." Bling began, but stopped at the look Logan was giving him.  
  
"Don't wait up for me, Mom," were Logan's last words to his less-than-happy trainer as he went out.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------- ---------------  
  
Logan handed his card to the sector guard, trying to conceal his impatience and sense of growing unease. For once he hoped that Max hadn't done her job with her usual skill and precision. He just wanted the chance to talk to Seth alone and gain the boy's confidence. He suspected that if he didn't deal with Seth gently, the giant would never reveal to them what he knew about Emma's disappearance, and Logan was almost sure he knew something.  
  
"You're out late," the sector cop growled suspiciously at Logan through his open car window.  
  
"I've got a sick friend to visit," Logan replied straight-faced.  
  
The cop stared into the car again, as if expecting four escaped prisoners to be lurking there, but when none jumped out, he had no choice but to wave Logan through.  
  
Logan knew exactly where Murdoch's Bar was, and he knew exactly what type of seedy establishment it was, remembering the couple of times before Bruno Anselmo's handiwork that he'd gone there to meet with one of his less- salubrious informants.  
  
He kept an eye out for Max's motorcycle, but was undecided as to whether or not he was disappointed when he didn't come across it.  
  
The area itself was reasonably quiet, which surprised him, but the noise from Murdoch's coming through his open window as he drove by seemed to make up for it. At least the power was on here, he noticed with satisfaction, as he was fortunate enough to find a place to park his car underneath one of the few streetlights in the area.  
  
Logan was thankful that the transfer was particularly quick and smooth – it was the time he felt at his most vulnerable in an area like this. It would be far too easy for someone to...He quickly stopped his thoughts from going in that direction. _Must be all Bling's worries rubbing off on me,_ he thought, a little annoyed to find himself feeling so tense now that he was here.  
  
_Not as if I've never been to South Market by myself this time of night before_, he told himself a little sarcastically, blocking out the voice that said, _Yeah, but last time you were on two feet.  
_  
Making sure he slipped both his gun and his phone into his jacket pocket, and being doubly sure to lock his car, he set off toward Murdoch's Bar. It was about 150 yards down on the opposite side of the street.  
  
A sudden shout of laughter from across the way made Logan warily observe a group of five drunken youths as they came toward him. Purposefully not looking in their direction, he pushed on to the other side of the road, and was a little relieved as they took no notice of him. He didn't want to be caught up with other matters tonight. His single goal was to find Seth.  
  
He hadn't paged Max yet and he knew he should. Now that he was here, she'd just have to accept the fact that they were doing it his way, he decided grimly, wondering how many fireworks there might be.  
  
The night air was decidedly chilly, but he was glad for the feel of the cold wind on his face; it added a sense of clarity to his thoughts that hadn't been there earlier. The admission from Genevieve about her sister's disappearance had given him a lot to think about as he drove. Had someone kidnapped the child to force her parents into doing something? It appeared highly unlikely that she would have been kidnapped for money.  
  
Logan was now passing a road that ran a few doors down from Murdoch's.  
  
He glanced into the darkness casually, checking for oncoming traffic before continuing on his way.  
  
He was about to cross when something made him look closely down the road again.  
  
It was hard to make anything out. The road was narrow, and the three- and four-story buildings that faced it mostly seemed to be in darkness as well.  
  
When his eyes failed to detect any sign of movement, he went to move on, but then he remembered that he still had to contact Max. He grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket and paged her.  
  
He waited for a minute in the cold, half-expecting her to call him immediately if she'd been within distance of a phone. Now that he was here, he had to admit that he didn't really look forward to entering Murdoch's Bar by himself. The thought made him wonder since when had he come to rely on Max's presence - not so much for her protection as for her companionship. He'd bet she'd have a few witty remarks to make about some of the clientele to be found there.  
  
Realizing that she wasn't about to call, he left the phone on his lap, in readiness to pick up when her call came through.  
  
He forced himself into action and was about to head on toward the bar when this time he could have sworn he heard a noise somewhere in the vicinity where he thought he'd seen the movement down the narrow road.  
  
Unexpectedly, a light in one of the buildings suddenly came on. Logan was startled to get a quick glimpse of a man hovering over something on the ground, and in that instant he looked straight at Logan, who was clearly revealed by the light from the street behind him.  
  
One point struck Logan immediately. The man he'd seen had been big – not just tall but a mountain of a man. Instinctively, Logan got his gun out and placed it between his legs.  
  
"Seth," Logan called to him, quickly swinging around and heading down the road to the point where he could still make out the definite figure of Seth. His eyes narrowed suddenly as he realized that Seth was hovering over the body of a man in a suit. As Logan got closer, the young man stood up suddenly, a stunned look on his face as he held out hands darkened with something.  
  
"You shouldn't be here, Logan," he heard the boy say, before everything became very confused.  
  
He turned quickly as he heard the sound of a car driving down the narrow road. Before he had a chance to protest, Seth grabbed his arms and lifted him in a fireman's hold onto his enormous shoulders, and began running as fast as he could with Logan's added weight.  
  
Completely taken by surprise, Logan tried to resist the iron-like grip that held his arms, but he soon gave this up as futile. In his next thought, he hoped his glasses didn't slip off as the laws of gravity probably decreed that they should.  
  
"Seth," he tried to protest as he became aware of the fact that the young giant was now carrying him up a narrow flight of stairs.  
  
Logan lost track of how many floors they'd gone up. The sensation of blood rushing to his head was beginning to feel extremely unpleasant. He'd tried raising his head once or twice but had been forced to put it down again quickly as a corner of the stairwell loomed perilously close.  
  
He was beginning to wonder how much more he could take and how much further Seth would be able to carry him, as the boy's breathing was beginning to sound very laboured, when Seth stopped at a doorway with the obvious intent of opening the door.  
  
The huge boy carried Logan in, and without a word dumped him down heavily on a bed. Without giving Logan even a moment to take a breath, he turned on his heel and headed out again.  
  
Logan opened his mouth as if to speak, but stopped suddenly.  
  
The click as the key turned in the lock sounded ominously loud in the gloom.  
  
TBC 


	17. Perspectives

A very big thanks to all those who reviewed - I love getting your feedback.

Sorry about the delay in this chapter but Alaidh has had computer issues, which weren't helped by some of my rewrites, and at the last minute Kyre very kindly stepped in once more to beta.

So a very big thanks to both Alaidh and Kyre for the work they did on this chapter.

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CHAPTER 17

"Bling?"

Max, looking clearly puzzled, walked into Logan's apartment, then through to the kitchen where she found the therapist.

"Where's Logan? I was on my way back here when he paged me."

"He didn't catch up with you?"

Max stopped short at that. "What do you mean?" she asked sharply.

Bling looked a little uncomfortable under that piercing stare. "He went after you. Said he wanted to talk to Seth himself. He was gonna page you when he got down there."

"Damn, I missed him," she frowned as she went across to his phone and dialled his cell phone number.

"You didn't find Seth, then?" Bling asked her.

Max shook her head as she walked across to the windows, waiting for Logan to pick up. Bling followed her through from the kitchen, a worried frown on his usually relaxed features as he watched Max press redial with a hint of frustration.

She looked across at him uneasily. "He's not answering."

"There could be plenty o reasons for that," Bling said reasonably.

Max shook her head as she pressed redial yet again. "He would have been expecting me to call him back. You know what he's like – he puts the phone on his lap if he's expecting a call." She suddenly stared at the phone before hanging up. "_That's whack_!"

"_What?"_

"He answered, then hung up before I had a chance to talk."

Max looked up to see what she felt inside mirrored on Bling's face.

"I don't like this. I'm going back out there," she said curtly, heading over to Logan's computer as she spoke. "Did he tell you where exactly he was gonna head to?" she asked as she searched for the program she required.

"Uh-uh. Just that he wanted to talk to Seth. He was kinda determined."

"Tell me about it," Max murmured as she entered the relevant information, wishing she'd been more considerate in regarding Logan's feelings about the whole meet-Seth dealio.

"What's this?" asked Bling quietly, coming up behind her and staring at the screen.

"It won't find Logan directly, but it_ will_ give us details of any numbers dialled from his phone. Could be another lead if we need it."

Her tone told him that she hoped it wouldn't come down to that.

Max let her eyes do a quick sweep around the apartment. With a pang she noticed that it already seemed a little empty or strange because of Logan's absence.

Catching a slight sound near the kitchen, Max turned quickly, only to relax as she saw Genevieve. Her hair was tousled and her pretty features were slightly scrunched, with the look of someone who'd just been unpleasantly disturbed from her sleep.

"You're up late," Max told her, going across to the child and looking carefully at her face.

"Is Logan in some kinda trouble?" the child asked quietly.

"I hope not," said Max lightly. "It's late. You should be asleep," she added with a smile that she was far from feeling.

The child didn't look the least bit comforted by her words, but stood there silently, looking up at Max with large eyes that reflected the horror of what she'd been through the last few days.

Max instinctively knelt down in front of her and took both her hands in her own warm ones. With a frown, she felt Genevieve's arm. The child was trembling and felt cold through her lightweight pyjamas, even though the apartment was warm.

Max didn't know what to say. Logan's injury and the events of the last few days had made violence and death a reality to her – not just something that was seen on T.V.

Genevieve spoke with a quiet conviction. "There are bad men out there. The bad men hurt him last time."

For a moment, it seemed to Max as if the blue eyes were looking at her with reproach.

"I wasn't there last time," she said with a hard voice. "I won't make that mistake again." The intensity of her promise made Genevieve look at her with a tinge of awe.

"You'd better get back to bed," Max told her a little stiltedly, looking up as Bling came through.

Genevieve looked toward the couch.

"Can I sleep out there?" she asked in a small voice.

Max looked at Bling with a small smile. "You wanna give up your bed?"

"Don't plan on sleeping 'til Logan's back anyway," Bling said lightly. "Go grab your pillow an' I'll get you a blanket," he grinned at the child.

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Max's footsteps sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness of the underground parking lot.

She took her glasses from her jacket and slipped them on as she walked across to her Ninja, purposefully ignoring the empty space where Logan usually parked his car. Instead of her usual grin of satisfaction as she felt the power throbbing between her legs when the Ninja roared to life, her face bore an unusually grim expression.

_You're not the only one who thinks they screwed up that day, Logan,_ she said to herself as she roared out into the rain-spattered night.

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Left in near-total darkness, Logan struggled up on his elbows, unknowingly holding his breath as his ears strained desperately to hear any form of sound from outside the door. The only thing he eventually heard was his own grunt of disgust and dissatisfaction with himself that he'd let Seth grab him so effortlessly.

Logan let his head hang back and let go another sigh. He kept his eyes tightly shut to somehow block out his own stupidity and the look of scorn on Max's face that he saw so clearly in his mind.

Two thoughts popped into his head almost simultaneously at the thought of her. Firstly, he was not looking forward to her 'I told you so' attitude when he explained his predicament. The second thought, however, proved to be even more unwelcome than the first: his phone was now somewhere out on the roadway with his wheelchair and gun, and who knew where his glasses had ended up. He couldn't remember when they'd slipped off the bridge of his nose; all he knew was that they were not there now.

"Dammit," he gritted through clenched teeth as he pushed himself upright.

The darkness in the room was so intense that he could hardly tell any difference between having his eyes open or closed. For a moment, he understood the fear and confusion that a pilot must feel when encountering zero visibility.

Trying to calm his breathing, he told himself reasonably, "Okay, I just gotta work this out." He wondered why these calm words did little to quell the waves of self-reproach that continued to wash over him as the seriousness of his situation began to sink in: he was stranded on what he took to be a bed, without his wheelchair, phone or gun, in a room so dark he couldn't see his own body.

"First things first," he stated decisively, his voice sounding unfamiliar in the gloom. He inched his hands around to ascertain that he was, in fact, on a bed. Deciding that his first assumption had been correct, he eased himself backwards, hoping to find a wall or headboard to lean against.

Feeling relieved when he touched a pillow, he felt around and found what he concluded to be a headboard. He propped the pillow behind him, now at least able to lean back with comfort, which he did thankfully, taking a few deep breaths.

"Now, if I could just find a light. I don't suppose..." he muttered, hopefully reaching his hands out in the darkness. His right hand encountered a cold, damp wall, but his left hand found what seemed to be a bedside table and--to his great relief--what he swore felt like a lamp.

"Come on," he muttered, biting his lip as he pressed what he hoped was a switch.

Instantly, the room became a reality as a rather pathetic, but nonetheless welcome, yellowish light lit up the area around the bed. Logan let out a long breath of relief as he looked around.

He found himself in a run-down single room apartment which was as close to the bottom end of the scale as his apartment was to the top. The room was small, not much bigger than a large motel room. There was nothing stylishly retro here – the few pieces of furniture were just plain 'old,' ugly and well-worn.

The bed on which Seth had dumped him was opposite the door, flush to the wall. To Logan's left was a window, and further over, a small kitchen area with a sink and an ancient-looking gas stove. The only other furniture consisted of a rickety wooden table with two wooden chairs that weren't a pair, a faded and threadbare sofa that had been a bright, floral blue many years ago, and a TV set sitting on a wooden crate.

"Nice," he murmured to himself.

He realized now why it had been so dark in the room – the window had been covered with thick, black plastic. He looked at it thoughtfully, wondering if it was there to cover a hole or to keep out the prying eyes of the hoverdrones. He couldn't imagine who or what else would be peering through windows this many floors up.

"This is just great," he said to himself aloud, his voice heavy with sarcasm as his eyes swept the room for inspiration.

Either the walls were incredibly thick or the adjoining rooms were deserted; all he could hear was the continual drip, drip, drip from the faucet as drops of water beat a steady tattoo on the sink below. He couldn't make up his mind whether to be comforted or annoyed by the sound. At this point he was leaning toward the latter.

His gaze falling on his outstretched legs, he quickly swallowed down the frustration that was building in his throat and tried to focus instead on his options.

_Options--that's a good one_, he thought wryly. The only scenario he could think of entailed dragging himself across the floor to the door, and banging on it with something like a chair leg to try and attract someone's attention. What were the chances of someone coming by? Even if they did, in a place like this where crime probably abounded, would they be likely to stop and see what the noise was?

On the other hand, he wasn't sure if he felt desperate enough yet to totally surrender his pride. The thought of being discovered on the floor held little appeal to him, and the difficulty of coming up with an explanation that didn't strain the bounds of credibility as to why he'd been abducted from his wheelchair and carried up however many flights of stairs and dumped in a room...Well, he'd rather take his chances with Seth. In spite of all that had happened, he was sure the boy had meant him no harm. He just hoped that Seth would realize that Logan couldn't stay here indefinitely. Overnight, fine, but if he didn't come soon after that...Well, thought Logan wryly, he guessed that would be the point when his degree of desperation would slip up a notch or two. The bag he carried with him for emergencies might as well have been in Canada for all the good it would do him in the car.

He glanced down at his watch and was surprised to see that it was already well after twelve. _Time certainly flies_...he was musing ironically when his eyes fell on his left hand – the one that Seth had grabbed when he'd pulled him from the chair.

Quite clearly he could see part of his hand covered in a smeary dark stain.

Logan quickly checked the whitish/grey part of the sheet where his hand had been resting. There was definitely a smudged, red stain there as well. He let his mind go back to the events of the last half hour or so.

He could see Seth squatting beside the body of what he was almost positive had been a man in a suit. When he'd called to Seth, the boy had said, "You shouldn't be here, Logan."

Logan thought back carefully. Was there any intonation to the words? Was there something he'd missed? The boy always spoke in a relatively expressionless tone. As hard as Logan tried, he couldn't remember detecting anything threatening or otherwise in Seth's voice.

Shaking his head a little, he frowned as he went over all that had happened in regard to Seth the past week. Everything he came up with was inconclusive. _Getting angry_ _because people tease you doesn't make you a murderer_ was his only decision.

Feeling like he was getting nowhere with this train of thought, he let his head rest for a moment against the wall.

The adrenalin that had been coursing through his body had receded, leaving him strained and tired, and reminding him of the inadequate amounts of sleep he'd been getting lately. The thought of the pillow behind his back was incredibly tempting.

Suddenly he realized that, regardless of the situation he found himself in, he could barely keep his eyes open. _I don't care what Max says - I doubt that Seth plans to kill me in my sleep_, he murmured.

_Max._

He wondered what she was doing. He wondered what she'd do when she called his phone and he didn't answer.

He wondered if, somehow, she would find him.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan didn't know how long he slept, but his return to consciousness was so quick that it left him disoriented and dazed for the briefest of moments. The sudden awareness however, of the feel of cold metal pressed against the side of his neck quickly cleared his mind.

"You wanna tell me why you're looking for me, rich boy?"

Logan instinctively turned his head a little, his face expressionless as he looked up into the eyes of Emma Belding.

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Max's first stop was Murdoch's.

Her eyes quickly scanned the crowded bar again. For once she was thankful for the Manticore training that had automatically kicked in, forcing her to focus on the solution and not the more worrying possibilities of what could have happened to Logan. She felt a twinge of disappoint that he wasn't in the bar.

She spied a phone in the corner and gave Bling a call just in case he had any news on his end, but she wasn't particularly surprised when he answered in the negative.

"Maybe he caught up with Seth himself," Bling suggested hopefully.

"Yeah, or maybe Seth caught up with him," Max murmured darkly.

"I shoulda tried harder to talk him out of it," Bling's voice came back to her from the other end, reminding Max of Charlie's words – _You like to get your own way, and you usually do._

"He's a big boy," was all she commented, uncomfortably aware of a tightening in her own throat. "I'll keep searching here, ask around a little. We may get lucky. Maybe someone saw him. That's one good thing about a wheelchair - it's kinda noticeable," she added dryly, not feeling the least bit comforted by the thought.

She hung up and looked around with distaste at the assortment of customers in the bar.

Her eyes glinted wickedly as she thought of a number of smart-ass comments she would have liked to share. The thought brought her up short as she realized there was really only one person she would have cared to share them with.

Fending off several offers to spend the evening with particularly undesirable men, Max questioned everyone at Murdoch's.

No one had seen a man in a wheelchair.

Max tried hard not to analyse her findings. There was nothing to indicate either way whether this knowledge was good or bad. Nonetheless, it was with mixed feelings that she walked out of the smoke-laden atmosphere and into the refreshingly chilly night air.

"Logan Cale," she fumed as she swung a black-clad leg over her motorcycle, "I'll..." She suddenly stopped as she realized she didn't want to do anything at all, except find him in one piece, defiant and unharmed. This was one time when she had absolutely no desire to be proven right.

Her dark brows drawn down in an ever-deepening frown, she rode slowly down the road, eyes checking with military precision for anything that would give her a clue as to his whereabouts.

She had only gone a few hundred yards in the direction opposite from the way she had come when she saw Logan's Aztek, looking rather lonely by itself beneath the solitary streetlamp.

Max checked it thoroughly with a stony expression. She could find no sign of a hasty departure or anything else untoward.

"So," she told herself bracingly, "you got this far, Logan."

At the back of her mind, she still held some vague hope that there was a simple explanation for his absence, but the thought nagged at her that once he had paged her, he would have been expecting her call. Even though he could be incredibly obsessed once he was caught up in something, she couldn't believe for a moment that he wouldn't have made sure he had his phone at the ready to receive her call.

The beeping of her pager suddenly cut through her thoughts and she grabbed it with alacrity as soon as she heard the noise.

The readout told her that it was Bling, not Logan.

Repressing a sigh, she looked around for a phone, hesitating as she spotted one close by.

"_Logan, answer," she'd pleaded fruitlessly._

_It had been sunny that morning – but by evening, the clouds had rolled in and the heavens had poured forth with a vengeance. It had been so appropriate, she remembered. It would have been so wrong if Seattle had smiled when fate was asking her to give up the only life she had ever enjoyed and the only man she had ever..._

"_Logan,"_ she murmured, almost in spite of herself.

Max took a deep breath and walked over to the phone. _That day had turned out all right,_ she told herself. _The storm clouds had lied – they'd been wrong about Logan._

"Bling, it's me," she spoke coldly into the phone.

"Someone's using Logan's phone. They're calling a number near you. I got an address on it. Seventy-five Morton Street."

"That's just behind Murdoch's," Max told him quickly, clamping down on the surge of hope she felt.

"I'll check it out," she said curtly as she hung up.

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"You don't have to jab that thing so hard. I'm not goin' anywhere," Logan pointed out mildly, careful to not make a sudden movement.

Several seconds later, the pressure on his neck was relieved by the removal of the gun, and he let himself start to breathe more evenly.

He put a hand up to rub the spot where the gun had ground into his skin and looked with interest at Emma Belding. A little irritably, he wished he had his glasses – after looking for her for almost a week, it was annoying that his first sighting of her should be a blurry one.

She stood back from him now, staring at him implacably, the gun held in a steady hand. Feeling a little self-conscious under her cold scrutiny, Logan scooted back a little until he was more upright.

_Hard to appear cool when you're stuck on a bed with a gun pointing at your head,_ he mused wryly.

"You haven't answered my question," Emma prompted him sharply.

Wondering if he was imagining it, Logan noted that she looked older than she had in the photo, and somehow more hardened. Gone were the similarities to the sweet little girl who'd lived next door.

The hair that had been long and wavy was now cut short in an almost boyish style. The hazel eyes that stared at him suspiciously were underlined by dark circles that told of days, perhaps weeks of strain.

She was thin – a little too thin, he thought. Her hip bones were clearly visible even through her jeans. She wasn't dressed to attract attention, though – there was nothing fashionable about her appearance. It was plain and understated, but what he did notice were her fingernails. They were long, shapely - perfectly manicured. Max had been right. He supposed everyone had their point of pride.

"Martin asked me to," he told her briefly, sincerely hoping that Martin was as good a judge of character as he bragged he was. Looking at the gun, Logan was beginning to have second doubts.

At the mention of his cousin's name, she held the gun with even more determination than before.

He didn't like the way she held it - she was too smooth, her stance too comfortable. He had to assume uneasily that she'd done this before.

"That hardly fills me with relief. He was working for _them_," she spat out, taking a step closer.

"Not of his own choice," Logan told her quickly.

"I'm not really interested in his reasons or excuses," she replied coldly. "Next you'll be telling me he sent you here to beg me to come back to him."

Logan bit his lip at that. "Ah, no...not really," he admitted hesitantly, "but he was worried about you."

"How touching."

He found himself in a difficult predicament. It didn't appear as though Martin had made the impression on her that he thought he had. Emma Belding appeared to be anything but grateful for Martin's involvement.

Logan couldn't help but smile a little to himself.

_Max would feel vindicated – nothing like making an ass of yourself trying to rescue a girl who doesn't want to be rescued._

"What are you smiling at?" she suddenly asked suspiciously.

"I'm just thinking that sometimes I'm a slow learner," he told her cryptically, staring into space. The irony of the situation was not lost on him as he wondered why he hadn't learned his lesson from Alina Herrero_._

Looking up at her after a few moments, he noticed that she was looking distinctly uneasy. She kept glancing at her watch and casting glances towards the door as if someone was expected.

"Something bothering you?" Logan asked her with slightly narrowed eyes.

Emma merely gave him an annoyed glance, as if she were irritated that he'd broken in on her thoughts.

"Seth?" Logan murmured with sudden insight.

Ignoring his question, she said instead, "So, you really Martin's cousin?"

"Should I admit to that?"

"So why did he get you to look for me?" Her tone was hard, full of mistrust.

Logan took a deep breath. He suspected he had only one way to get out of this mess – and even then...

"He got in over his head gambling. Lost big, owed money," he said simply.

"So they got him to spy on me?" This time she spat the words out.

"To his credit, he did eventually feel guilty about it. Guess he has some conscience...somewhere," he finished dryly.

"Why should I believe you?" she snapped, moving across and checking the door, careful to keep her gun aimed at Logan.

"Seth knew you were here all the time?"

"Don't mention his name," she suddenly spoke with intensity, a hint of wildness in her eyes. "They warned me," she muttered, full of self-reproach, "and now _you_ know too much too!" she finished, looking at him accusingly.

Logan looked at her carefully, trying to gauge what he should say...what he could do.

"We've gotta get going," she said suddenly having come to a decision. "After what happened tonight, who knows who's out there."

Logan frowned, trying to make sense of all this, but he was a little thrown by her next words.

"Get going," she told him, motioning with her gun. "And don't try anything!"

Logan merely looked at her for a second, his mind blank, feeling a little foolish.

"Seth didn't tell you?"

Looking tenser by the minute, she just gave him an impatient look. "Look, I don't know what game you and Martin are playing, but until I know more about you, you're just gonna have to do things my way."

"I can't walk," he got out quickly, frowning a little as he felt the familiar surge of embarrassment.

He certainly had her attention now. Logan could see a dawning understanding in her eyes.

"Seth brought you here?" she almost whispered.

At Logan's nod of assent she said, "I wondered why he said ..."

She abruptly closed her mouth, leaving Logan to wonder just what it was Seth had said.

She looked at him with more of an apologetic manner now. "Seth wouldn't think to mention it unless I asked him directly. It's how his mind works," she explained, obviously thrown by his revelation.

Logan nodded. "I can understand that. Only thing is he didn't bring my wheelchair up here," he murmured, shrugging a little.

Emma just looked at him for a moment, then in an instant, she dropped all pretence, letting the hand that held the gun drop toward the floor. Her shoulders sagged with the weariness of anxiety. She stood before him now a confused and worried young woman.

Logan began to relax, pleased to see the gun no longer aiming at his head. He admitted wryly to himself that it would have taken much longer to convince her of his sincerity if he'd been able to walk.

Logan spoke quickly, using her uncertainty to his advantage. "Look, Martin was genuinely concerned that you were in some kinda trouble. I'm just a journalist. He thought I might have some contacts...maybe I'd be able to turn something up on you."

A small, scraping sound at the door had her turning around with a look of stark relief.

"_Seth_," she called out, running to open the door.

Logan suddenly sat up straighter on the bed, his own gaze intent on the scene before him. Emma Belding was now walking backwards into the room, the gun still hanging uselessly in her right hand.

"Throw it down, Emma," commanded a voice that Logan recognized.

Very carefully, she dropped the gun to the ground, then continued backwards, closer to Logan.

He had the sense in that instant he'd become an ally to Emma rather than a possible threat. Either that, or she simply figured that she had less to fear from him than she did from the man Logan recognized as George's well-spoken CO from the market six days ago.

The cold, blue eyes swept over Logan.

"Mr Cale," he announced in a polite, slightly ironic tone. "So _you_ found Emma first after all."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Max had driven halfway down Morton Street when her attention was caught by some figures on a dilapidated basketball court. She left her Ninja a short distance away and approached noiselessly on foot, hiding in the shadow of a neighbouring building while she surveyed the court.

The frown on Max's forehead deepened as she watched from her vantage point, feeling as though some of her worst fears had been realized.

In front of her were five youths, all particularly drunk, judging by their uncoordinated behaviour.

Max's lips curled with disgust for an instant

Even as she watched, one of them tipped back in the wheelchair and ended up on the wet ground, while the others roared at him with laughter, shrieking obscenities.

One of the boys, who'd been standing there laughing at his friend's lack of co ordination, suprisingly found himself crying out with pain. He didn't know what had happened to him – all he knew was that suddenly his arm was almost breaking, and he screamed out in pain accordingly.

The shouts of laughter stopped of a sudden and the other four boys all looked around with considerable surprise.

The smile Max threw them was dazzling yet mirthless as she continued to twist the boy's arm behind his back, her other arm now encircling his throat.

"Now I'm wondering to myself what five fine specimens like yourselves would be doing with _that_," Max told them, carefully emphasizing the last word.

The one on the ground jumped up, while the other three either shuffled around a little awkwardly or tried to act cool.

"What is it to you?" one of them finally muttered, his eyes glinting menacingly in the dark.

"It happens to belong to a friend of mine," Max replied coolly, resisting with effort the temptation to pull them apart one by one until they told her where Logan was. Instead, she managed to relieve some of her stress by twisting a little tighter the arm she held. "You see, my friend needs that to get around," she told them with deceptive mildness, "so now I'm wondering to myself what it is you've done with him."

"Well, maybe you'd just better keep your pretty little nose out of our business," the same boy spoke again, this time feeling especially brave with what Max recognized to be Logan's gun in his hand. The fact did nothing for her present frame of mind.

Releasing her hold on the boy she held, she flashed forward with X5 speed. Her right leg kicked up and knocked the gun from the boy's hand into her own left one. In almost the same movement, her right hand shot out and grabbed him fiercely by the neck, lifting him briefly off the ground. He clawed desperately at her vice-like grip, eyes wide with terror as he struggled for air.

One of the others made an attempt to distract her, but Max merely let the first boy's feet touch ground while her left foot flashed back in a brutal kick, leaving the second boy clutching the top of his thigh in agony.

"You broke my leg," he gasped out.

"I'm gonna break your damned neck if you don't tell me where my friend is," Max grated back fiercely, not removing her hand from the youth's neck for a second.

"Okay, okay, we'll tell ya, but we didn't do nothin'," one of the as-yet unmarked ones spoke up self-righteously.

"Spill it," growled Max with determination. "Where'd you find this stuff?"

"We were just walkin' down Finch Street. We came across this stuff lyin' on the road. Honest," he added, seeing her patent look of disbelief.

"You gotta be kidding me! That the best you can come up?" Max berated them sarcastically. "You think my friend just left it there and walked away?"

"Look, we don't know nothin' 'bout your friend 'cept that we saw him a few minutes earlier when he got out of his car."

"Where was he heading?" asked Max quickly.

They all shrugged; obviously they hadn't been interested at the time.

"Did you see anyone else around?"

Just to encourage them a little, she tightened her hold on the boy's throat. His squeaky squeals seemed to have the desired effect.

"It was real quiet around here tonight. We didn't see nobody."

Max let the youth go with sudden disgust. Her gut instinct told her that they were telling the truth, but to her frustration, it brought her no closer to Logan.

"You," she said, pointing suddenly to one of the two who was still in one piece, "You're gonna lead me to the exact spot where you found the chair. Got it?"

The boy nodded eagerly, greatly relieved to have missed out on her 'ministrations'.

Max then held her hand out. "I want the phone," she stated exactingly.

The boy with the bruised thigh quickly put his hand into his pocket and pulled out the phone that she was so used to seeing in Logan's hand. The sight of it brought her up short for a moment. _Where was he?_

"I'll give you other boys five seconds to get your sorry asses outta here..." She left the end of the sentence up in the air, letting the veiled threat hang there. They were gone in less than five.

"Get goin'," she snapped at the solitary youth.

"It's not far. Just up ahead a bit," he motioned eagerly.

Max felt her body tensing. What would she find up ahead, she wondered grimly as she pushed the boy in front of her before grabbing Logan's chair. At least it seemed to be in one piece, she thought thankfully as she ran a thorough eye over it while tucking his gun into her jacket and slipping his phone into her pocket.

"Well, where was it?" Max prodded the boy when he eventually stopped outside a four-story building.

"Here, I think," he murmured a little uncertainly.

Max looked around, aware of a sinking sensation in her stomach as her eyes probed the darkness. Was that a patch of blood on the pavement?

"Are you sure you saw no one?" she turned to the boy.

He shook his head, but his eyes were intent on her face. A look of shame crossed his own face as he caught a fleeting glimpse of pain on hers. He asked with a sense of guilt, "Where could your friend have gone?"

"_Shut up_," Max interrupted ruthlessly. "Just pay attention and be sure that this is the exact spot."

The youth nodded again and watched Max as she took off one glove and knelt down, wiping a finger over the stained pavement. She was almost certain that it was blood. For a moment she let her head drop as if the weight of her discovery was momentarily too much for her.

Silly thoughts flitted through her head, like, _I didn't say goodbye to him_.

He'd been moody and she'd simply let herself out.

"Don't," she said to herself sharply, forcing herself to take a breath and look around.

Happening to glance up at that moment, her eyes fell on something shining in the darkness.

"Your friend's?" asked the youth as he looked at the pair of steel-framed glasses she now held in her hands.

"I thought I told you to shut up!" she snapped fiercely again as she tried to get her head around this latest discovery.

Logan's glasses had been almost at the front door to the building she now stood before.

"You - I want you to stay here and guard my friend's wheelchair for me. Do the right thing and there's a hundred in it for you."

It didn't take the boy long to decide that this was a reasonable deal and he nodded compliantly.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan's calm gaze swept to the black 9mm Baretta the man from the market held in his hand, noting the silencer with an inner grimace. _You don't usually carry around a gun with a silencer unless you're reasonably certain you may have to use it. _

"I take it you work for Petrovsky?"

The man inclined his head in confirmation, almost proudly before turning to Emma and saying in his cultivated voice, "And he's most unhappy about his four million dollars. He wants it back, Miss Belding."

Logan quickly looked to Emma. Her eyes were wide, fear written on every part of her face.

"I don't have it. I_ never_ had it," she emphasized, taking yet another step backwards.

"Now we have the added complication that one of Petrovsky's men was killed tonight. I'm afraid this poses a problem."

"I'm no killer," she told him, her hazel eyes clear.

The man laughed at that.

"I doubt very much that you'd be able to stab a full-grown man four times," he finished, his suave manner slipping for a moment. For an instant his gaze rested on Logan, then he said, "but that huge boyfriend of yours would be a different matter."

"He's just a friend. I hardly know him," she retorted scornfully, "but he hardly strikes me as a murderer."

The other man shrugged.

"I'll let Petrovsky sort that out. We need to go. Now," he added curtly.

Logan could feel himself tensing. He instinctively pushed himself a little more upright, resisting the urge to wipe his suddenly damp hands on the sheets.

The man stepped toward Emma while Logan intently watched first his eyes, then his hands.

"If you go with him, he'll kill you," Logan told her with cold certainty.

She looked down at him, then back to Petrovsky's henchman.

"Don't be so melodramatic," the man sneered. "Petrovsky just wants his money."

"But I told you, I don't have it and I don't know where it is," Emma cried out, standing now at Logan's side, in front of the bedside table.

"What are you gonna do?' Logan goaded the other man. "You can't kill her. I'd imagine Petrovsky wants her alive."

The man was looking annoyed now.

"Stop wasting my time," he snarled, raising his gun towards Logan as he lunged forward to grab Emma's hand. "I told Petrovsky we should have gotten rid of you earlier," he told Logan with the bitterness of one who knew he'd been right all along, as his finger tightened on the trigger.

Logan's hand, which was already on the light switch, plunged the room into total darkness.

"_Run_!" he called to Emma, as he threw himself to the floor with little thought other than to be anywhere but where the assassin would expect him to be.

He hit the floor hard and immediately began to drag himself in what he hoped was the direction of the wooden table and chairs. Neither was particularly good as either cover or a weapon, but it was all he had.

He knew he was making reasonable progress, but suddenly he realized that when he tried to move, nothing was happening, and somewhere at the back of his mind he noted that his mouth felt uncomfortably dry.

At that moment, a rush of pale yellow light from the hallway outside flooded the room. Logan looked up to see Petrovsky's man with one foot on his leg and the Barretta now pointing unerringly at his head.

Unable to move further, Logan twisted around and looked full into the face of the man who was about to kill him.

"_No_!" a voice suddenly screamed from the doorway.

Logan didn't look toward the door. Instead, he reached back with his right hand and grabbed at the leg that was digging into the back of his thigh.

The first blow that hit Petrovsky's man sent the already-overbalanced hit man smashing into the table, which immediately collapsed under his weight.

Even then he kept a firm hold on his gun and attempted to get off a shot, but he scarcely had time to even start to squeeze the trigger before a black boot smashed into his hand, probably ensuring that he wouldn't be squeezing a trigger with those fingers for quite some time to come.

Petrovsky's man was tough – no cry of pain escaped the lips that were now pulled back in agony - but his face did register an instinctive grimace as he waited for the force of the fist to make contact with his jaw.

The final karate chop to the back of his neck was probably unnecessary, but Max delivered it anyway. She had a lot of stress to relieve. It seemed like as good a way as any.

"Perfect timing," Logan told her, his chest still rising and falling a little quickly from the exertion of the last few minutes.

Max had run the gamut of emotions from guilt to anger to worry to anger and then back to worry again until the moment she had opened the door and seen a man standing on Logan, gun in hand, obviously about to squeeze the trigger. She would have had to go ten rounds with Muhammad Ali to get rid of all that pent-up emotion. There was only one place left to vent it.

"What the_ hell_ did you think you were doing? I_ warned_ you about this!"

"You warned me against Seth._ He_ wasn't the one trying to kill me," Logan pointed out to her bitingly as he twisted onto his back.

"I thought you'd agreed to leave it to me! You think I don't know how to do my job - _it's what I'm trained to do, Logan!"_

_Enough, enough,_ a voice said inside her head as she saw the expression on his face.

She stopped abruptly, somewhere at the back of her mind aware that the woman and Seth were now staring at her.

"I got a coupla things that belong to you," she muttered, feeling a little self-conscious now about her outburst. She darted a look of suspicion at the woman who now stood there almost in a state of shock--whether from the violence and the danger she had found herself in, or from Max's tirade, Max couldn't be sure.

Without another word, Max held out Logan's glasses to him, never comfortable when he wasn't wearing them in public.

Now leaning against the kitchen cupboard, he took them and silently put them on without looking at her.

"Max, let me introduce you to Emma Belding," he eventually said with a touch of irony.

"So, you're the one who's causing all the trouble," Max told her in a not-altogether-friendly tone.

"Thanks for your help," Emma said quietly, pulling her eyes from the sight of the unconscious man not so far away from her who minutes ago had been such a threat.

Max simply shrugged. "I didn't do this for you. We need to get outta here," she added, turning back to Logan. "He could have friends."

Logan spoke to Emma and Seth, who had stood silently by the door. "It's not safe for you here now, either. I've got somewhere safe where you could go on the other side of town."

Logan could see Emma's look of surprise and suspicion.

"Look, for whatever reason, Martin was genuinely concerned about you, and..." He paused for a moment, wondering how to best phrase the children's involvement. "There are a few loose ends we'd like to clear up," he finally added a little vaguely.

"I have no one else to trust," she replied a little bitterly. "What choice do I have?"

Logan looked towards Max. "I got a small problem."

"Oh, I got all your stuff," Max said quickly, pulling out his phone and gun and passing them to him, "and your chair's downstairs."

"That's helpful," Logan murmured dryly.

"There's an elevator," Emma put in. "It's in the adjacent building, but a door connects to it from this floor."

"Great," he nodded, but Max had caught his look of relief.

"I'll just check it's still working. It can be a bit unreliable," Emma explained to Logan.

Max turned to Logan, a look of warning on her face.

"It's _okay_, _Max,"_ he said in an undertone.

"We aren't about to make a run for it, if that's what worries you," Emma told her coldly. "Besides, you should be_ thanking_ Seth. He may have saved your friend's life, for all you know."

"I was just trying to help Logan. That man wasn't good," Seth stated apologetically in his gentle monotone voice.

Max turned to Logan with a look of confusion.

"Later," Logan told her succinctly, feeling a need for urgency. They'd waited here long enough. "My chair?"

"I got a kid watching it downstairs so that it doesn't get stolen – again," she added with a raise of her brows.

"Seth can get it," Emma offered.

Max hesitated. It went against every instinct to let the two of them walk out of there, but on the other hand, she wouldn't have felt confident leaving Logan with Petrovsky's ruthless hit man – who knew how long he'd be out?

She quickly glanced at the huge young man before her. After all, Logan trusted him.

Max turned to see Emma watching her with interest.

"Fine," she agreed coolly, taking out two fifty-dollar bills from her jeans pocket.

"What's that for?" asked Logan, frowning.

"That was my insurance," she told him lightly, as she turned to Seth. "Give this to the boy downstairs who's lookin' after Logan's chair. I got it covered, Logan," she said quickly, noticing his gesture of protest.

"My chair got stolen?" he asked her, understanding starting to dawn in his face as the others left the room. The knowledge put the fierce anger she'd directed at him in perspective.

"I'm sorry I put you through...all that," he told her vaguely, not wanting to spell out what he could only guess would have been some of her fears when she'd found his wheelchair in the hands of whoever had it.

Max was already feeling guilty about her outburst. She'd never wanted to imply that he couldn't take care of himself. She only had to think back to Cape Haven to know that that wasn't true.

She didn't know if she could ever explain to him that her instinctive response would always be to protect and fight for him, whether he was in a wheelchair or not. It was simply her – they'd made her that way. She was the soldier and he was the journalist.

"I thought we made a pretty good team here tonight," she smiled at him instead.

"How did you...?" he began.

"You left a trail. Found your glasses, then I found Seth."

She didn't fill in the parts in between, but he had a reasonable idea of what may have gone down.

"You'd better call Bling. Tell him you're okay," Max suggested.

She smiled to herself as he very briefly informed Bling that all was well while she checked the condition of Petrovsky's guy. He was still unconscious, but his breathing was even, his heart rate strong.

"How's he doin'?" asked Logan.

"He'll live," she shrugged, sounding a little disappointed.

"That was a pretty hard knock you gave him. I guess I should give some paramedics an anonymous tip that there's a guy passed out in the room when we leave."

Ignoring his comment, Max stood up and walked restlessly toward the door. "They should be back by now," she muttered darkly.

Logan said nothing.

"How long does it take to check an elevator and get your chair, anyway?" she continued with frustration.

"_Max_..." he began, only to look up with a certain amount of relief as Emma and Seth walked through the door.

Looking almost annoyed that she'd been proven wrong, Max took the chair from Seth and wheeled it over to Logan, quickly checking that it was still in one piece.

"Is there anything in here you need?" she asked Emma, "'cause you won't be coming back."

The girl grabbed a bag from under the bed. It was already packed.

"Head to the elevator, we'll follow," Max told her briefly, giving Logan a few minutes to get himself organized.

"But you..."

"We'll find it," Max told her coolly. "Just meet us at the bottom."

Once they'd gone, she turned to Logan, who was preparing to pull himself into the chair.

"I got a heap o questions for that girl."

TBC


	18. Lost and Found

Many thanks for the reviews – they always make my day!

Thanks very much to Kyre for the beta and for not changing my Aussie spelling.

Sorry for the delay in this chapter, but I've been working on VS 4 at the same time. The next chapter will be up a lot quicker.

CHAPTER 18

"Whaddya think the chances of them splitting are?" Max asked as Logan as the elevator creaked and shuddered its way down to the ground floor of the adjacent apartment block.

"I'm doin' my best not to think about it," was Logan's rejoinder. He purposefully leant back in his wheelchair to prove his point, finding the touch of the wheels under his hands surprisingly comforting after having been stranded so long without it.

Max merely gave him a small smile. The glow of finding him safe hadn't quite worn off. She still had that warm, slightly dazed feeling that comes after a moment of great relief.

"Gimme your keys. It'll be quicker and less noticeable if I head down an' get your car," Max told him, one hand out to receive them. Unable to disagree with her logic, Logan fished the keys out of his jacket pocket and gave them to her.

The first thing Logan saw when the elevator door opened was Seth and Emma, waiting with mixed expressions against the wall opposite the elevator doors in a dimly lit, faded and dirty lobby.

Seth stared at Max disagreeably when he looked up and saw them, but made no other movement.

Emma's eyes, Logan noticed, went straight to his chair and his motionless legs.

"Not much of a fashion statement," he told her flippantly as her eyes lifted to his face.

She looked away hastily and turned toward Max, who was staring out the grimy glass door that led to the street outside. "What do we do now? We waited...like you said," she reminded her caustically.

"Just stay well back from the door," Max told her in a detached manner. "There may be a few pryin' eyes out there," she added to Logan seriously as her eyes now automatically swept the lobby. There was little to check – the only items in the lobby were a decrepit wooden chair that didn't look like it could take the weight of a five year old child and a miserable, moisture-starved potted palm.

Logan nodded, signaling for Emma and Seth to stand closer to the back of the lobby where he was as Max slipped out the door.

"Over here, Seth," murmured Emma.

"I need to stand guard," Seth told her, moving closer to the glass doors.

"You can stand guard from back here," she pointed out firmly to him.

The large, young man shook his head decisively.

"Seth," Logan began, only to stop suddenly as the boy put up an urgent hand signaling him to be quiet and flattened himself against the wall.

"He's out there."

Seth's words, spoken in a hoarse whisper, seemed to resonate in the dingy lobby, leaving Logan with small tendrils of something cold running up the back of his neck.

Logan suspected Seth had watched too many bad movies, but he couldn't ignore the sudden tension in the air and he felt for his gun just in case.

Seth continued to stare out the window.

"Is it one of Petrovsky's men?" asked Logan, wondering why he felt so foolish, but getting out his gun anyway.

For a moment he had the impression of a shadowy silhouette gliding past the glass doors, then he looked up a little startled as the single fluorescent light that illuminated the glass doors from outside suddenly started blinking on and off with mesmeric rapidity.

"Seth, _who's_ out there?" he asked, trying to sound calm and unconcerned.

"The man from before," Seth answered, becoming a little agitated. All of a sudden he turned toward Logan. "We hafta go," he said tensely, taking a step towards Logan purposefully.

"Seth, no," Logan said quickly, putting up a hand in protest. He had no intention of being hauled upside down again. "We need to wait here for Max."

Seth shook his head, clearly unhappy with this idea. "He's still looking – we need to go," he insisted again.

Logan eyed Seth warily. The boy had a mulish expression on his face. "Seth, we'll wait here till Max comes back with the car."

The young man continued to look around with uncertainty.

Emma spoke sharply. "Seth, you are _not_ to touch Logan."

At that moment, they heard the sound of a car pulling up outside.

"That sounds like my car," Logan said with quiet relief.

In a matter of seconds, Max was back with them, a little startled to find Logan facing her with a gun in his hands.

"Seth was seeing things. Just in case," he added holding up the gun a little. "You see anyone out there?"

"Some, but no one we need t'care about," she answered with assurance.

That was good enough for Logan, so he stuffed the gun back in his pocket and pushed forward, wheeling quickly through the stiff door she held open for him.

"Come on. We gotta get to the car fast," Max urged Seth and Emma, letting go of the door to double-check that there was definitely no one she'd missed lurking outside the apartment as she came in.

Fine splinters of rain drizzled steadily from the sky with an eerie quiet into the still night, illuminated intermittently by the flickering light.

Logan waited a beat, looking around cautiously as he got to the sidewalk. It appeared to be deserted, but there were so many shadows it was difficult to be sure. Aware of Max behind him, he headed to his car. She had parked on the wrong side of the road, making it easy for him to access the driver's door.

The sound of movement behind him told him that Emma and Seth weren't far behind.

"He's here...somewhere," Seth whispered hoarsely once more, his eyes searching the roadway.

Logan felt the same tingle at the back of his neck that he'd felt before. Pausing in the act of opening his car door, he turned around to look at the giant. The boy didn't appear to be afraid, just very on edge.

Logan's glance swung to Max. She raised her eyebrows at him with an _'Is the guy wacked or what?_' look.

"Isn't this the part where the monster jumps out?" she murmured under her breath to Logan.

Emma certainly appeared to be taking Seth's concerns seriously. She stood next to him on the pavement in front of Logan's car, her eyes attempting to probe the shadows as well.

Logan turned back to the car and opened the door, vaguely aware that that neither Seth nor Emma had made a move to get in the car. Because he was feeling slightly distracted by Seth's unease and wondering if he had an audience, his transfer was neither smooth nor efficient. Annoyed with himself, he didn't look up at Max but asked her coolly as he buckled his seat belt, "You comin' with us or following?"

"I'll tail you," she told him. "I'd better put this in the hatch," she added with a hand on his chair.

He simply popped the hatch in acknowledgement, then turned the key in the ignition.

"Emma, take the front seat," Max motioned to the girl who was standing a little uncertainly by the car, shivering with either the cold or her reaction to the events of the night. "Seth, take the back."

The huge young man looked at Max with something like dislike, but she ignored it as she held open the back door for him with one hand on her way to the back of the car.

It was all the invitation they needed, both quickly climbing in and fastening their seat belts. Logan turned to Emma and gave her a quick tightening of his mouth that passed for a smile, then turned the heater onto high as he noticed her trembling.

The hatch closed with a bang.

Max came back to Logan's now-open window. "Where we headed?" she asked, eyes darting to the road ahead as she spoke, then to the shadows opposite, then finally behind the car.

"Thorpe Street," he told her briefly.

He saw the smallest flicker of recognition in her eyes, but she merely said, "'Kay. See ya there."

--------------------------------------------------------

There was no telltale sign to reveal his presence.

With hands thrust deep into his pockets, he stood as one carved from stone – his expression cold and implacable to match.

He was supremely patient. Even the unpleasant smell of urine and rotting food failed to quench his resolve. There was no sign of even distaste as he simply continued breathing in each polluted breath of air in a calm, precise manner.

At last, a hint of emotion touched his face; his eyes glinted slightly as the SUV sped by, followed a minute later by a black motorcycle.

Only then did he make his move.

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It was well after 2 AM by the time Logan pulled up in front of the small, three-storey apartment block in suburban Seattle.

Neither Emma nor Seth stirred as he stopped the car gently and put it into park. He stretched his arms out a little as he looked around for any sign of Max. He knew she had been tailing them most of the way, but she had dropped out of sight about five minutes previous, and he was becoming a little concerned that she still hadn't showed. She had definitely been behind him when he'd stopped briefly to anonymously call 911 to get some paramedics to Pertovsky's man whom they'd left behind in the sparsely furnished apartment.

The engine continued to turn over quietly with its smooth rhythm. He hadn't wanted to turn it off for Emma's sake, figuring that the temperature inside the car would start to drop fairly rapidly. Looking through the front windshield, he could now see a mostly clear sky scattered with a myriad of twinkling lights.

Twisting around, he looked at Seth. He didn't have to check that the boy was asleep – the deep sucking-in of air at the back of his throat told Logan that very clearly every time Seth took a breath.

"Come on, Max," he murmured impatiently, his concern for her going up a notch as there was still no sign of her arrival.

What if Seth was right? Maybe there had been some guy hanging around. What if he'd followed Max and knocked her from her bike and was now on his way here?

Even as he thought that, he heard the increasingly loud sound of a motorcycle. Almost before he had time to turn around to see if it was her, she'd pulled up next to his window and lifted her glasses onto her head.

"You made good time," she remarked as he let down his window.

"Where were you?" he asked back with a frown.

"Girl's gotta eat," she told him with a sassy smile. "I thought you might be hungry too."

She half-glanced behind herself as she spoke. Following her direction, Logan saw two pizza boxes on the back of her bike.

"Brings back memories," Max commented as she looked towards the apartment block.

Logan shrugged a little. "It was the only place I had available."

Both Emma and Seth were stirring now at the sound of their voices and the rush of chilly air that swept into the car.

The girl looked up suddenly with a vaguely bewildered look that lasted for all of a second. "Are we here?" she asked quietly.

Logan had been taking a key off his key ring, but he looked up as she spoke. "Yeah. Sorry it's nothing fancy, but at least no one will know where you are for the time being."

"Max." He held out a silver key in the palm of his hand for her to take. She just looked at it without making a move, her eyes darting back to his face. Then, in a quick movement, she deftly tossed it to Emma.

"Head in there," she told her, pointing to the door behind her with her thumb. "Number 6. Second floor."

Seth had already unfolded his long length and now stood by Emma's door. He opened it for Emma. She got out, then leaned down again, her eyebrows raised in mute enquiry.

"Just get goin'. We'll see you in five," Max said quickly before Logan had a chance to speak.

Logan looked at her with an annoyed frown. "I thought you had some questions you wanted answered."

"I do. Just not in the car. This place is hardly the Steinlitz, but it's more comfortable than breaking our necks trying to talk to them in here."

Logan flicked another annoyed glance in her direction from under his lashes. "The Steinlitz has an elevator," he pointed out to her curtly.

"Which as I recall you were reluctant to use," she pointed out facetiously.

"Hardly my preferred manner of descent," he snapped.

Max smiled suddenly, forgetting for the moment the horror she'd felt as she saw Jon Darius's May 22nd terrorists push Logan from the parapet, instead remembering the incredible surge of adrenaline as she'd soared through the night to catch him. "Sure was wild, though!"

Logan didn't look in the least pacified by her memory of the event.

_Of course, I was pissed off with him that night, too_, she reminded herself as she impatiently tapped one black-booted foot while she studied his profile.

"Hurry up. My pizza's gettin' cold and I don't wanna wait till tomorrow to talk to mystery girl. Watcha gonna do?"

She could see Logan was beginning to bend a little.

"Logan, it's only one floor. Seth's already hauled your ass up four floors tonight."

"_No_," Logan interjected practically before the last word was out of her mouth. "I'll do it," he added shortly.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Max felt a slight stab of conscience as she effortlessly carried Logan's chair, with the pizza sitting on the seat, up the stairs. Within a minute she'd deposited it on the first-floor landing. Looking around cautiously, she admitted to herself that she'd forced him into something he clearly hadn't wanted to do and he'd no doubt raise quite a sweat.

At least at this early hour there seemed to be no one around. She doubted very much that she would have been able to talk him into it if it had been the middle of the day and there'd been the risk of an audience.

_Then again,_ she mused, _if that was the case, I probably wouldn't be starving, an' I'd be more likely to put up with one of Logan's possibly boringly long Q&A times in the car._

_Anyway, he may be pissy at me now, but once he's up here and able to have a decent discussion, he'll probably thank me. _

Her mouth turned up with derision at that thought.

_Yeah, Max, right!_

__

_ -----------------------------------------------------------------------_

__

Bling stifled yet another yawn as he tried to read the webpage on the screen in front of him, which detailed some of the latest research into preventing osteoporosis and atrophy in the limbs of those with spinal cord injuries.

It was a continual source of frustration to him that since the Pulse, the majority of the research was now done overseas. America was dropping back further and further and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep abreast of the latest developments. One of the advantages of working for Logan that Bling was particularly grateful for was the access to his state-of-the-art equipment. This gave him access to a huge range of information that many of his fellow PTs didn't have.

Still, as interesting as it was, his eyes were refusing to focus. Probably due to the late hour and the uncomfortable few hours he'd spent worrying about Logan, he supposed.

_Not the first time that's happened and it probably won't be the last. Still, I _wish_ I'd been a fly on the wall when Max caught up with you, my friend_, he mused with a tired grin.

"Bling?"

"Hey, I thought you were asleep for the night. I've got some great news for you," he went on quickly as he looked at the woebegone face in front of him. "Logan's okay. He's fine."

Genevieve's face broke into a huge smile. "I've been praying," she confessed to him shyly.

"You think maybe now you're ready to sleep back with Monique? That couch looks awful good to me right now."

The child gave him a sleepy nod. "I'll grab my pillow. See you in the morning."

---------------------------------------------------

"The place hasn't changed since last time I was here," Max murmured to Logan as they opened the door and looked in the dimly lit room.

Logan looked around, his breathing still a little laboured. He could remember the other lifetime when he'd set up the apartment, but it was Max who'd been here last.

"Wouldn't know," he retorted shortly, which told her absolution may be a little way off yet.

Emma was pacing in front of the double bed with the brown cover, while Seth sat hunched uncomfortably in the same armchair Bruno had sat in when she'd handcuffed him to the heater.

The room was cold and damp, with a musty smell from lack of use and ventilation. Still, Max considered it an improvement on the dump she'd found Logan in. At least Logan made sure his safe houses were furnished, she thought as she looked around.

"Who's for pizza?" Max asked generally as she strode in, first of all turning on the lamp that stood on top of the bureau near the door. _Hardly Logan's usual taste in artwork,_ she grimaced as the lamp lit up a depressingly dingy print of flying geese.

Seth stirred at the mention of pizza, looking at the boxes Max held in her hand with anticipation. Emma hardly looked at her, but instead looked to Logan, who was closing the door.

As soon as he'd swiveled around to face her, she said with a tinge of the hostility and distrust that she'd had when she'd held the gun on him, "Why have you brought us here? Seth knows nothing – why don't you let him go?"

Ignoring her questions, Logan pushed on through to the tiny hallway and open doorway at the back of the room.

"Pizza?" Max asked her with a slight edge to her voice, holding the box in front of her and effectively impeding her progress as she tried to follow Logan.

Emma shook her head impatiently, looking over to Logan.

"You should have some," he added over his shoulder. "There isn't much in the way of food here."

"You can't keep us here," she called to him insistently.

Seth now stood, all thought of pizza clearly gone as he moved closer to the girl. He looked at Max with open distrust. "I can hurt people too," he told her, sounding chillingly composed and focused, leaving her in no doubt of his intent.

"Seth," Emma said sharply, taking a step closer to him. Her eyes darted first to Logan, then to Max.

Max's face grew hard for an instant. _So this is Logan's idea of 'harmless.'_

Logan had stopped and swung around at Seth's words. "I'm not trying to keep you both here. I brought you here because I hoped you'd be safe," he told them calmly.

He looked up to see Max and Seth eyeing each other with open dislike - Max with calm confidence in her own ability, and Seth with a dogged expression that said he would do whatever it took to protect Emma. There was a challenge in Max's eye now and her stance changed subtly to one of readiness. A threat to herself she laughed at, but one directed at Logan was a different matter entirely.

Logan read the signs with alarm. Max teaching Seth a lesson was hardly going to win over either his or Emma's trust.

"Hey, we don't need to do this. Let's have some pizza and talk. That's all I wanna do. Then if you two want, you're free to go."

He caught Max's subtly raised brows of disapproval but ignored her, focusing on Emma Belding instead, who seemed to be struggling with some huge inner decision. When she didn't reply, he took that to mean the affirmative, and purposefully turned his back on all of them to diffuse the situation with a, "'Scuse me, I gotta wash my hands."

Logan navigated the sharp turn with ease, even though his shoulders were still burning a little from hauling himself up the stairs. He headed straight for the sink and turned on the faucet, relieved to find there was still hot water in the apartment.

He wondered what they were doing in the other room. It didn't sound as though Max was tearing Seth apart.

He let the water run for a few minutes, relaxing his shoulders and letting out a tense breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding. He found it soothing to watch the increasingly hot water play over his fingers, enjoying a sensation he could both see _and_ feel. _I could sit here for hours,_ he thought with a sudden feeling of lassitude. It had already been a long night, and it was only going to get longer, he suspected dryly.

Rousing himself from his lethargy, he put his glasses on his lap and cupped his hands, filling them with water to splash on his face. He did this several times until he felt ready to face the others.

"So, you ready for the Spanish Inquisition?" asked a voice at his elbow.

Max.

Logan looked up at her with a dripping face, surprised to see her holding out a hand towel.

"It was on the hook above the sink," she told him.

He went to say thanks, then remembered he was still mad at her for making him transfer up the stairs. He felt himself weakening - the hot water had felt awfully good.

"Thanks," he told her, deciding to accept the gesture as a peace offering, "And let's hope it won't quite come to that," he added, referring to her initial comment as he slipped his glasses back on with his right hand and tossed the towel onto the counter.

Max followed him out, admiring the smooth way he navigated the tight turn back into the larger room.

Emma still stood in the middle of the room, but Seth now sat on the bed with one of the boxes of pizza. He didn't seem to be having any difficulty in methodically working his way through it.

Logan and Max both ignored her and headed for the small kitchen table that was on their immediate right.

Logan paused a second at the table, but Max had already seen his intention and quickly moved the chair closest to his end out of the way. She didn't want either of them to have their back turned toward Emma and Seth. She wasn't prepared to let her guard down yet, regardless of what Logan may say on the matter.

Max walked to the other end, choosing to sit sideways on the table facing Emma and Seth, before scooping up a piece of pizza and biting into it with relish.

Logan stopped at the table and set his brakes, then frowned a little at the gloom at this end of the room. There was a low strip light on the wall above the table, so he assumed there had to be a switch somewhere. Finding one behind him on the wall, he started to reach back with his right hand, then thought better of it, choosing to unsnap his brakes and wheel back instead. He gave a small grin of satisfaction as the light illuminated the table.

Max ate her pizza slowly, barely noticing the fact that it was by now quite cold and becoming decidedly chewy. Her eyes were on Emma, whose eyes were on Logan with a puzzled, speculative gleam to them.

_The girl's wasting her time if she's trying to work Logan out_, she laughed to herself, _unless she's planning to cross him_, she thought in the next instance with far less humour.

Logan looked up at Emma and smiled a little, gesturing to the pizza. "It's not that hot, but it'll fill you up."

The girl didn't move, but continued her scrutiny of his face before finally saying with little warmth in her voice, "I thought you must've wanted it too?"

"The four million?" Logan asked her disinterestedly before taking another bite. "First thing I knew about it was tonight."

"I'm supposed to believe that?" she snorted.

Logan shrugged. "That's up to you, I guess."

Unexpectedly Seth spoke up. "I don't think Logan would lie."

Emma paused for a moment at his words, but still looked suspicious.

"You oughta pay attention to the big guy," Max told her from her seat on the table, feet resting on one of the old, olive green kitchen chairs, as she helped herself to another piece. "Seems like he's a better judge of character than you are."

"Well, I can hardly argue with that," muttered the girl, suddenly putting a hand to her forehead with a gesture of weariness and indecision.

Max watched Emma carefully without appearing to do so and was surprised to see a softening of her features as Seth proffered the box. "It's real good," he encouraged her.

Giving in, she took a piece and bit into it.

"Take a seat," Logan called to her, motioning to the other ugly chair at the table.

Seth had gone back to his place on the bed, where he concentrated on consuming the rest of the pizza.

Emma sat down with her back to Seth, forcing Max to get down from her perch in the interest of good manners.

"Any coffee in this place?" Max asked Logan.

"There should be some instant stuff in the kitchen," he answered, all the while keeping his eyes on Emma, who now sat dazedly at the table, the pizza in her hand growing colder by the minute.

As Max left, Emma finally said with a certain amount of wonderment, "So you really are Martin's cousin – and you were just doing him a favour...looking for me, I mean?"

"Guilty as charged," he told her quietly.

"You don't live here," she assumed.

"It belongs to a friend of mine. He's working overseas...left me the key," Logan answered easily. "So, you wanna tell me why Russian mobsters are hot on your tail?"

Emma put her pizza back in the lid of the box, with one small bite taken out of it. "I suppose I owe you some explanation after all the misunderstanding...Seth abducting you and then Petrovsky's guy showing up. I think you were right – I think if I'd gone with him, they'd never have let me go." She shrugged, a small, defeated gesture. "Maybe it would have been better all around."

"Why don't you tell me how you got involved with Petrovsky? I got contacts...maybe I can help," he told her in an upbeat tone as he wiped his hands on one of the napkins Max had brought back with the pizza.

Emma cast a quick look over at Seth, then took a deep breath. "You ready for a soap opera?" she asked Logan dryly, looking up as Max returned with two mugs of coffee. She put one down in front of Logan, then offered the other one to Emma, who took it silently.

"Seth, coffee?" Max asked the boy. He shook his head, so she disappeared back into the kitchen to reappear only a few moments later with a cup for herself.

"I did one of those dumb things and married the wrong one."

"Join the growing ranks," shrugged Logan.

She looked at him for a moment, then continued, "I thought he worked in security. Turns out he was a doorman for Petrovsky at his casino on –"

"Hillsgate Road," completed Max for her with a glance in Logan's direction.

"He stole the four million from the casino," said Logan in a voice that said he wasn't surprised.

Emma began to look uncomfortable. "I don't like to admit this part...he talked me into helping him. He kidnapped the baby of one of the cleaners because the guy had after-hours access. Grant hid in his garbage bin. That's how he got inside."

Max looked closely at Logan. He suddenly appeared to be very tense.

"This was about eighteen months ago?" he asked Emma curtly.

She nodded, then pushed on with difficulty. "I was so scared of him. He'd become...crazy or something at the thought of all that money. He started saying things like he wasn't gonna let anyone stop him."

"It's a well-known disease," murmured Max dryly.

"He made me look after the child...but..." Her voice broke a little here and they waited for her to compose herself.

Seth, Logan noticed, took little interest in the conversation. Maybe he'd heard it before, or maybe it was too hard for him to follow, Logan wondered as he leant back in his chair, waiting for her to continue.

"I was so scared he was going to do something really bad, so one afternoon when Grant went out, I called the parents..."

"Told them the child would be at a playground. Left her there."

Max looked with surprise at Logan now, as did Emma.

"Monique's sister told me," he admitted to both of them.

Emma's eyes widened at that as did Max's.

"Long story. I'll explain it all later. Meantime, what happened to Grant?"

Emma stood up abruptly as if it were too unbearable to sit down a moment longer.

"The Hacketts called the police. Grant was charged with kidnapping. Turns out the FBI was keen to bring down Petrovsky. Both Hackett and I gave evidence in return for new identities...new lives, they said. Grant went to jail on kidnapping charges – they couldn't get him on theft because Petrovsky never reported the money missing, of course."

"Guess it's hard to cry '_I've been robbed'_ when the money's dirty in the first place," commented Logan, releasing his brakes in order to swing away from the table to follow her a little.

Emma pulled idly on the yellow scarf that hung from a shelf. "Guess the answer to that died with him...he never admitted where the four million was."

"He's dead?" asked Max sharply, now standing herself and looking across at the girl.

"Knifed...in prison."

"Well, I guess this explains why Petrovsky wants the girls. He must figure their father knows more than he's let on," Logan remarked to Max.

"And he'd do anything to get that money back," said Max, her eyes fixed on the girl. "How does Martin figure in all this? D'you get suspicious of his sudden interest in you?"

"Oh yeah, he never fooled me for a minute," Emma said sarcastically. Shrugging a little she admitted, "One day I happened to see him around Hillsgate Road. I followed him."

"Look, I don't know what his feelings are towards you, but I think he was genuinely concerned about you when you disappeared," Logan offered.

"Either that or his conscience was wack," added Max, unforgiving as ever where Martin was concerned. Logan nodded a little absently and she supposed with a quick stab of guilt that he was still worried about his cousin.

"Well, you can tell Martin you found me. _His_ conscience will be clear, at least," Emma finished dully.

"_If_ we could find him," Logan told her dryly.

Max stood abruptly, her bearing tense, alert.

"What is it?" Logan asked her, instinctively dropping his voice to a whisper.

She just narrowed her eyes, listening intently. Then he could hear it too.

Someone was walking down the hallway, and the footsteps seemed to be coming closer and closer.

Max quickly raced around the room, dousing the lights. Whoever it was could only be coming to the apartment they were in or the one opposite. There was no other alternative at this end of the hallway.

Emma looked across to Seth before turning out the lamp closest to her. He was dozing on the bed, remnants of pizza decorating his huge chest as it slowly rose and fell. She looked to Logan, who appeared tense but calm, apparently confident enough in Max's capabilities to let her take charge of any defensive situation.

"Hey!!" _Bang, bang._

The sudden call and the loud thumps on the door made both Emma and Logan jump in the darkness.

"Doris! Let me in!" the voice insisted even louder with what seemed like a drunken slur.

Logan winced. Nothing like trying to keep a low profile when someone's set on telling the world that you're there.

The third set of thumps on the door was even louder, and Logan was now aware of Seth moving somewhere around the room.

"I know you're there. I saw the light," the male voice continued with annoying persistency.

Logan heard the slight noise of the door opening, and then he saw a shaft of light as Max slipped out the door.

Logan couldn't help it, but now he felt really on edge. What if this was a trap? Who would Max be facing? _Maybe I should go out there_, he wondered, feeling a burning frustration that the back of his mind told him was a waste of time. She didn't need his help. Nonetheless, he pulled out his gun once more, feeling a certain amount of confidence in the feel of the cold steel beneath his fingers.

He could hear Max speaking now, followed by something that sounded suspiciously like a whack to the head, then more words.

The door opened again, and Max stuck her head in the room.

"Looks like Frank here has the wrong floor. You can turn the lights back on. I'll be back in five."

With that she closed the door, and Logan quickly put his gun away, waiting for Emma and Seth to turn on one of the lights. The apartment wasn't spacious and he doubted he'd be able to find one of the switches in the dark without bumping into something.

Within seconds Emma turned on the lamp closest to the heater, allowing Logan enough light to go back and turn on the one by the table.

"I should check that there's no one else," Seth told Emma.

Logan watched their exchange uneasily as Emma nodded her agreement.

"I don't think that's wise," was all he said mildly.

"He's been looking out for himself for a long time," Emma told Logan. "He knows what he's doing."

Logan said no more. If he wanted them to trust him, he couldn't keep them on a leash.

"This is yours by the way," he told her.

Emma watched with surprise as he took out the gun she had pressed against his neck. He dropped one hand down to his wheel then leaned forward to pass it to her.

"Not the best way to introduce yourself to the man who's trying to help you."

Logan gave her a small grin then watched Seth slip out the door with surprising grace and silence for such a big man. He figured the boy would have had to be about six foot four.

_Taller than me,_ he mused.

Shaking off any thoughts along that line, he asked Emma, "More coffee?"

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

Logan grabbed their empty cups on his way through to the kitchen, wondering how long he could keep the telltale signs of sleep deprivation away. Then again, he didn't think a few chunks out of the woodwork would be as noticeable here as it was in his own apartment.

He was filling up the electric kettle when he turned his head to see Emma come through with Max's empty cup.

"I'm sorry," she said abruptly, making him look up at her in some surprise. "About what Seth did," she added, seeing his blank expression.

"Ohhh," Logan responded, hoping to shrug it all off. He didn't feel it was one of the high points in the career of Eyes Only.

"He didn't think about what he was doing. He told me he just wanted to get you away from the other man. I hope...I mean...I was a nurse, before I met Grant; I know how difficult it all could have been for you. In fact, I'm surprised I didn't ..." She stopped awkwardly.

Logan felt something squirming inside himself, for the moment feeling horribly exposed. It was almost as if she'd been one of the nurses who'd attended him personally while he'd been in the hospital. Most of the people he met had no idea of the indignities he'd had to experience after the shooting, and that was exactly the way he wanted it.

"So, you were a Florence Nightingale," he heard himself saying, still feeling too embarrassed to look at her as he rinsed the cups under the faucet.

"From Florence Nightingale to Bonnie and Clyde," she grimaced, not aware of the discomfort her revelation had caused him.

"Not quite," he told her, focusing his thoughts on spooning the coffee into the cups.

Logan heard the sound of the door closing, and in no time Max was breezing into the kitchen.

"Did you see Seth?" Emma asked her.

"Nope. One of those for me?" she asked Logan as Emma left the room.

"Sure," he told her, not looking up.

Max just looked at him. It was a tone she recognized. "Did I miss something here? Did Emma bare more of her soul to you?" she added with a touch of sarcasm that told Logan she hadn't been won over by Emma's story.

"She told me she'd been a nurse," he said curtly, pouring the now-boiled water into the cups.

"You know, there's a few questions we need t'get to the bottom of here. If all her troubles started here in Seattle, why the hell would she come back here...or Genevieve and Monique's folks, for that matter? Surely the FBI would have set them up with new identities in other parts of the country?"

"It was because of Seth," Emma said coldly from the kitchen doorway.

Max eyed her lazily. "Do tell," she invited.

"He's my brother."

Max raised both brows. "As far as bombshells go..." she congratulated her.

Emma stepped further into the room. Lowering her voice a little, presumably so that Seth himself couldn't hear, she said, "Here's the second installment in the soap opera. He was my brother, but we spent most of our lives separated. I was adopted by a family, but Seth spent most of his life in and out of orphanages and foster homes. He was...different."

Logan lowered his eyes and swallowed a little, but it was Max who said, "The life of someone who doesn't fit the mould."

Emma nodded. "I never knew I even had a brother until I was about fifteen, and then I found out he was disabled in some way. Because of the Pulse, most of the records had been lost. No one could tell me where he was or even what his name was."

Emma looked at Logan now. "That's why I decided to become a nurse. I thought maybe I could help him in some way, or maybe help other kids like him who'd gone through the same thing...being unwanted."

"So what went wrong?" asked Max quietly.

"I tried everything, and I just couldn't find him. I was so depressed...so lonely. I hadn't seen my dad in years. He'd accepted a job and was working overseas. I just didn't know what to do."

"And then Grant came along," filled in Logan with quiet understanding.

"It was all so stupid, I know...but I was desperate. I needed love myself," she told them in a voice that didn't ask for their sympathy, or maybe even their understanding. "Then in the middle of the whole Petrovsky mess, I got a call to say they'd found him."

The pain in her voice was clear, a mixture of guilt, self-reproach, and 'if only'.

"The FBI advised me to leave Seattle...but I just couldn't. Seth had been living in his apartment for years. He just couldn't cope with the stress of change. I couldn't ask that of him," she finished, almost defiantly.

The room had gone suddenly very quiet.

Max risked a glance at Logan. He seemed to be intently studying the Band-Aid on his right finger. Max did her best to look disinterested, but the flash of something in her dark eyes gave her away.

"I suppose you think I'm foolish?"

"No," said Max quickly. Easing back a bit, she said a little more coolly, "We...I...can understand that." Mentally cringing a little at her own clumsiness, she quickly picked up two of the rapidly cooling cups of coffee, leaving the third for Emma to pick up.

Seth was asleep on the bed when they went out to the living room.

Somehow, after Emma's latest revelation, nobody felt like talking and they drank their coffee in almost total silence.

Max didn't even want to ask what had been her other burning questions: how had Seth supposedly saved Logan's life – and from whom? And who had the blood belonged to?

Logan picked up the empty cups and placed them on his lap to take them to the kitchen.

The unexpected 'clunk' as Logan's footrest hit the leg of the table made both girls turn from their thoughts suddenly.

Max looked across at Logan.

"It's late. We gotta go," she said decisively.

TBC


	19. Motives

Many, many thanks for the reviews! They're a great incentive!

Special thanks to Alaidh, who has been in particularly fine touch this chapter, for sorting out my grammar.

Story 3 Chapter 19

There's nothing quite like someone yelling very loudly in your ear, "_It's morning. Wake up!" _to bring an unwilling body unpleasantly back to consciousness.

While Logan found the manner unsubtle, he couldn't fault it for effectiveness.

Both eyes snapped open as if they were on springs. He didn't have to move his head far to the left to see the small foghorn that had woken him up.

Even without his glasses he could see her quite clearly. He hadn't bothered to close his curtains when he'd finally dragged himself into bed a few hours ago and while the sun had lost its just-up crispy look, his bedroom was still bathed in the fresh light of mid morning.

Monique was kneeling on the seat of his wheelchair with a particularly pleased smile on her face as she saw the fruits of her labour.

"We made breakfast for you," she whispered to him with a slightly guilty look as if she were telling him something she shouldn't.

His mind still struggling to catch up with the whirlwind before him, Logan watched her bemusedly as she hopped down from his chair and ran across to the other side of his bed. With a small grunt she hooked one leg up on the bed, the other following quickly, then in a flash she stood up and with a look of glee, started jumping.

"Logan, you awake?" came Max's voice from outside the door.

"We've got a surprise for you," Genevieve's voice added brightly.

"Come on in," Logan called to them, quickly pulling himself up into a sitting position and grabbing his glasses from the bedside table.

"Sorry," he said to Genevieve when he saw the tray she carried. "Seems like you have an informer in your ranks."

"She told you?" Genevieve asked, looking a little crestfallen before giving her sister a dark look.

"Only some of it...not what you made for me," Logan told her quickly, eyeing the tray a little dubiously. "At least she didn't run off with my chair this time," he told Max, squinting up at her as if the sunlight coming through the window was too bright.

"I helped," Monique announced a little breathlessly as she attempted to twist and clap hands while continuing to jump.

She looked more than a little annoyed as Max reached out and grabbed her before she'd completed this complex feat.

"Whoa, not on Logan's legs," Max told her, managing to catch her before she fell.

The child immediately began to squirm with frustration that she'd been denied one of her favourite pastimes, and tried to get out of Max's arms.

"Hey, let's watch Logan eat his breakfast," Max suggested to distract her, giving Logan one of her cheesy smiles.

He swallowed a little as he looked back down at the breakfast tray Genevieve had so carefully placed on his lap.

"This looks great," he told her, doing his best to muster a smile.

"I made you toast this time," she pointed out a little obviously to him. The thought crossed his mind that he wished she'd stuck to the plain cereal she'd made him last time.

"Yup," he nodded, trying to gather enough courage to actually pick up a piece and take a bite.

He knew Max was looking at him. She seemed especially bright-eyed this morning.

It never failed to annoy him that when he felt like he'd been run over by a truck after a night of little or no sleep, she looked like something from one of those pre-Pulse mattress advertisements where the couple spring from the bed all brimming with health and vitality. Logan couldn't remember if he'd ever woken up looking like that. He strongly doubted it. _Must be a Manticore thing_, he mused darkly.

"So, we have peanut butter and...?" He gestured towards the tray.

"Well, Monique likes peanut butter, and I like Nutella ..." Genevieve started.

"And they both wanted to put their favourite spread on your toast," Max told him with a straight face.

"So Max suggested we put both of them on together," Genevieve concluded triumphantly.

"And with all your training you couldn't come up with the simple equation of two spreads/two slices of toast?" he asked Max innocently.

"Couldn't. It was the last slice of bread," she told him, seemingly apologetic.

He wasn't fooled.

"Lucky me," he smiled at Genevieve but not until after giving Max a dark look.

A sudden thought occurred to Logan. "I didn't know I had chocolate spread in my cupboard."

"Chocolate/hazelnut spread actually," Max corrected him. "And you don't. Genevieve told Bling that she liked it so he bought some yesterday for her. Bet he paid a heap for it," she added thoughtfully. "He's waiting out there for you, by the way."

"You'll hafta remind me to _thank_ him," Logan replied, his smile a little forced.

Max gave him one of her most dazzling smiles. "Eat up," she encouraged him, swapping Monique to her other arm.

Logan looked at the expectant smiling faces of Genevieve and Monique and knew he couldn't stall any longer.

He took a smallish bite then quickly swallowed it down with the hot tea that accompanied it.

"Mmmm, good," he managed.

He couldn't help but think his sacrifice was worth it as he saw the now contented smiles of the two girls.

"Hey Max, you were right. He does like it," Genevieve beamed at her. In a conspiratorial tone she turned to Logan. "Max must know you reeeel well, 'cause I didn't think mixing them would taste too good – but Max told me you'd love it!"

Max showed him her even, white teeth. "Us girls gotta do the dishes," she told Logan quickly before adding with deceptive meekness, "We'll leave you to it."

Logan watched her go with a look of extreme exasperation.

He couldn't help but wonder when 'tormenting Logan' had become one of her favourite occupations.

Absently he picked up the toast and took a bite, screwing up his face a little as the taste hit his tongue.

'_Max told me you'd love it,'_ he muttered darkly.

The clock beside his bed told him it was already 10:30am . It had been just after 6:00am when he'd finally put his head on his pillows and almost immediately fallen asleep.

He let out a long breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He'd been fighting the queasy feeling in his stomach that comes with lack of sleep since he'd woken up.

He looked down at the toast. He'd eaten a very respectable half of it, but the thought of taking another bite was just too much. So as not to hurt the girls' feelings, he decided to toss the rest in the small trash receptacle in his bathroom.

After a few more gulps of tea, Logan put the tray down beside him on the bed and threw back the covers, ready to transfer.

At that moment he knew he had trouble.

He hadn't bothered to turn the light on when he'd got home in the final hour before dawn. Instead, he'd simply gone to the bathroom then undressed, pulling a fresh pair of plaid pyjama pants on by the dim light creeping into the room from his bathroom.

_Big mistake_, he thought now as he looked at his legs.

Both knees had a large, suspicious wet patch on them and he could see that the pants on his right leg were stuck to the blood.

_Stupid_, he berated himself, knowing that he should have checked them when he got home. He could imagine what Bling would say.

Well, I'd better get this over and done with," he thought sourly before calling loudly for his therapist.

----------------------------------------------------------

"_Dammit Logan,"_ Bling uttered explosively when he saw the state his knees were in. "I thought you told me they were healing."

"_They were_," Logan ground out, not bothering to tell him that his knees had taken a beating again last night.

Bling had had to wet the pant leg with warm water so that he could ease the material away from the now weeping abrasions that covered his knee.

Bling surveyed the mess with lips pressed tightly together. "This is too far gone for me to deal with. You'll have to see your doctor," he told Logan curtly.

"Great," Logan muttered.

Ignoring his comment, Bling reached out and grabbed the phone, stabbing at the numbers for Metro Medical.

"You got a temperature?" Bling asked him while waiting for reception to pick up.

Logan shrugged disinterestedly, his face hardening a little as he found his day being planned for him against his wishes.

"You're lucky, he's on duty this weekend, but he can't see you till about six tonight, he's fully booked, but if you wanna come in and wait around a bit, he thinks he can probably squeeze you in somewhere earlier."

"I'm not sitting around a waiting room all day staring at stupid posters on the walls," Logan protested at once. "Tell him I'll take the six o'clock appointment."

Bling looked at Logan as if he were about to protest the point, but in the end, merely spoke into the phone and secured the later appointment time.

"So how yah feeling?" Bling asked, reaching for the box of meds he'd retrieved earlier when Logan had first called him.

"Pissy," said Logan bluntly as he watched Bling get out an array of bandages and ointments. "Before you do all this stuff, I need to have a shower."

"I wouldn't advise you getting your knees wet," was the mild protest, but he stood up accordingly, watching with a slight frown as Logan transferred to his chair.

"It sounds kinda quiet out there," Logan said suddenly. "What are Max and the kids doing?"

"She took them up to the pool for a swim. Figured it'd do them good to have a change o' scenery for a bit."

Logan nodded as he wheeled towards his bathroom. He was wondering how best to phrase his request to Bling when his trainer beat him to it.

"I'm guessing you won't want Max in the loop on this?"

"Sure, no reason for her to be bothered by all this stuff," he answered with a contrived casualness that didn't fool Bling.

The trainer nodded wryly. "Be quick. I'll be waiting here for you," he added, which only annoyed Logan more and he muttered something under his breath about not being able to shower in private as he headed through the bathroom door.

Logan was surprised how shaky he felt when he swung himself into the shower. It did nothing for his mounting resentment and frustration of the situation that this should happen when he felt like they were finally getting somewhere in finding the kids' parents.

At least he could tell Martin he found Emma Belding – _That's if I can find Martin_, he thought sourly. Then there was Emma herself. He didn't see how she could ever be safe from Petrovsky if she chose to stay in Seattle. The thought made him feel extremely uncomfortable.

He found himself wondering if Emma stayed because she loved Seth or because she felt she had to watch over him. Was it guilt that kept her there or love?

_The only threat to her safety is you...and one day it's gonna get her killed._

Logan felt the familiar surge of guilt and doubt as he remembered Zack's words. He'd fired them at Logan like bullets from one of the guns he'd been trained to handle with cool, Manticore precision: _She should have left but she stayed because of you..._

In moments of unusual honesty, Logan admitted to himself that he wanted Max to stay – more than that he dreaded her going - but it had to be on his terms. He was happy if she stayed because she wanted his help in finding the others who'd escaped back in '09; he was happy if she stayed because she had friends here in Seattle; he was happy that he was one of those friends; he was happy if she stayed because somewhere along the line she did give a damn after all; but he wasn't happy if she stayed because he had screwed up circulation and the other hundred and one things he had to deal with because of his paralysis.

Those were the things he kept from her. The things that would make her stay for the wrong reasons.

"You getting out?' came Bling's voice from the doorway.

Logan thought about all the things he would like to say to his trainer, but after a moment of considerable restraint, he settled for 'Yeah' instead.

"You'll have Max and the girls back soon," Bling added none too subtly as a further persuasion.

"I hear you," Logan snapped as he turned off the shower, determinedly not looking at his knees while he dried himself.

---------------------------------------------------

"Genevieve was sure in a mess last night," Bling commented as he pulled up a chair to sit in front of Logan.

Logan, dressed in T-shirt and boxers, looked across at him in surprise.

"You had her worried sick," Bling went on while he dabbed at the ugly wound on his right knee with some antiseptic lotion.

"I guess she's depending on me to find her folks," Logan murmured, "I did promise her that," he added darkly.

Bling shook his head a little, remarking mildly, "You know for someone who calls himself Eyes Only you can be remarkably blind."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Logan snapped.

Bling laughed outright now. "Man, you don't have any idea at all, do you?"

"Bling..." said Logan in a warning tone.

"The kid thinks you're hot. She's got a crush on you!"

Logan felt the blood rushing into his face and put his head down ostensibly to watch Bling working on his battered knees.

"I'm old enough to be her father!"

"But you're not her father. That's the point," Bling told him. "'Sides, a ten year old recognizes a pretty face when she sees one. Damn, this is a mess," he added with annoyance as he took Logan's foot off the footrest. He stretched it out to rest it on the bed so that he could bandage the knee.

Not getting any response from his employer, Bling looked across at Logan to judge his reaction. He wasn't sure if he looked so annoyed because of the comments he'd made about Genevieve or the one he'd made about his knee.

"So you never noticed the way she blushed every time you spoke to her?" he prodded, enjoying himself a little.

Logan grunted with exasperation. He wondered darkly why Bling always chose to have these discussions with him when he was more or less tied to the one spot.

"Sure, I noticed her acting a bit funny sometimes," he answered his therapist a touch defensively, "but it wasn't like you think. The kid was just being a ...a ten year old!" he finished for want of a better word.

"Why don't you ask Max. She'll tell y'the truth."

"Max thinks this too?" he asked Bling with a guarded expression.

"Dammit Logan, what makes the whole idea so strange to you?"

Bling wasn't surprised when he didn't answer. Having dressed and bandaged his right knee he signalled for Logan to put it back on the footrest.

Bling worked silently on the left leg, and didn't speak until he'd finished bandaging it then checking that the bandages weren't too tight when both legs were back in position.

"You know, one of these days you're gonna stop worrying about this," he said to Logan, putting a hand on the wheel of his chair, "and start seeing yourself as a person again. If a ten year old can see you that way, why can't you?"

"Because a ten year old sees things _differently_," he retorted.

"Yeah? Well I can think of someone who's not ten – and she doesn't have any trouble seeing you and not the chair either," he told him coolly as he packed up the first aid kit.

Logan didn't have an answer to that one.

--------------------------------------------------------

"So, I hear you went swimming?" Logan smiled at the girls some time later as he looked up from his computer screen, leaning back with one hand on his wheel.

"I went in the deep water, Logan," Monique told him as she ran in to his study.

Max's hair was wet too.

"I didn't know you all had swimwear," he commented with surprise.

"We didn't," said Max airily, not missing the slight flush to his cheeks as the meaning of her words sank in.

"There was no one there, Logan," Genevieve explained with the patronizing tone a ten year old assumes when pointing something out to an adult.

Rather than embarrass himself further, Logan kept his mouth firmly shut.

"Is there anything for lunch?" Max asked. "The girls are pretty hungry after their swim."

"Yeah, Bling went out and bought some fresh bread and milk."

"Great," she smiled back at him.

The swim had been particularly relaxing after the stress of the previous night, and she'd had fun teaching the girls a few swimming strokes. She wondered what Logan was thinking about their skinny-dipping. She purposefully didn't tell him that she'd messed with the lock on the door so that it could only be opened from her side.

"You having some lunch?" she called to him as she took out some salad items from the refrigerator while instructing Genevieve to butter some bread.

"Logan?" she asked again, this time walking through to his study when he didn't answer. "You want a sandwich?"

His face was glued to the information he was scrolling down the screen, but as he caught sight of her, he casually exited the screen and picked up the large glass of water on his right.

"I'm looking into the list of calls from Martin's cell phone in the last twenty-four hours," he told her before taking a long drink.

"Find anything helpful?"

"Not really. Looks like he hasn't used it much. Although there is one call to Jonas listed early this morning, so I guess we can conclude from that that he's still alive."

"I guess that's a good thing," Max commented dryly. "About that sandwich?"

"Yeah, I'll come out and help in a minute."

"No big dealio. The girls an' I have it covered."

"Hey, Max. How was the swim?" asked Bling with a smile as he walked up to Logan.

"Liberating," she answered for Logan's benefit, watching as Bling put two white tablets into the palm of Logan's hand.

As if aware of her eyes on him, Logan looked up at her and murmured something that sounded like, "Headache."

"No wine for you at lunch, then," she commented lightly.

"I'll be back to do your reps later," Bling told Logan. "If there's nothing else you need for the time being, I'll get going."

"No, it's fine, Bling ...and thanks...for babysitting last night. Hope the girls didn't give you any trouble."

Bling laughed at that. "Piece o' cake as compared to my usual charge," he shot back at Logan.

Max had the impression the trainer was stalling for time as if he wanted to talk to Logan privately, so she excused herself and headed back to the kitchen where the girls were waiting for her.

"You _will_ keep that appointment, won't you?" Bling said to Logan as soon as she'd left the room, speaking in a low voice.

In answer, Logan gave him an angry, exasperated sigh as he unlocked his brakes and swung around to accompany Bling to the door.

"I'm serious about this, Logan," he added with a look of exasperation himself.

"Yes. I _will keep_ my appointment," Logan spelled out for him slowly. "Happy?"

"Guess I'll hafta be."

"_Any other advice for me_?" Logan asked at his most sarcastic.

"Sure. I think you oughtta go swimming with Max some day," Bling suggested with raised brows.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Genevieve and Monique had finished their lunch quickly and had rushed off to play a new game Genevieve had invented that seemed to be something about hospitals and operations.

Logan had tried to look enthusiastic when she'd explained it to him, but his worry the infection in his knees was serious enough for his doctor to insist on admitting him to the hospital to give him the required drugs by IV prevented him from getting too excited by her description.

Today was Sunday, but tomorrow Max would need to be back at work and he was feeling the pressure of trying to wrap the whole case up. More than anything he wanted to reunite the girls with their parents.

Once the girls had left the table, Max filled both their glasses with water from the pitcher.

Her brown eyes were thoughtful as she watched Logan from over the rim of her glass. He'd slipped his sweater off before lunch and now she quietly admired his toned physique in his black T-shirt as he downed half the glass of water in one go.

"You on a diet or something?" she asked him casually, lazily looking across at his scarcely touched sandwich.

"Just not that hungry. Maybe it was that breakfast," he added with meaning.

"Aren't the girls sweet?" she smiled innocently.

"Yeah. Sweet," he echoed dryly.

Suddenly serious she asked him, "You been in contact with Emma today?"

"I called her earlier. She seems to be doin' okay."

"You never told me what happened ... in the alley," she prompted him. "Emma said something about Seth saving your life?"

Logan thought back to the night before. "I caught Seth hovering over a body on the road," he admitted to her quietly.

"One of Petrovsky's peeps?"

"Supposedly."

Max studied his face while his thoughts were obviously a long way from her. The scruff was slowly returning and his hair was its usual messy self, but she frowned a little as she noticed a touch of moisture around his temples and the top of his forehead as if he were out in the sun on a hot day.

"Who killed him?" she asked bluntly.

At her words Logan's gaze swept back to her. The intensity in his eyes took her by surprise. "It wasn't Seth," he told her with finality.

"You don't have t'bite my head off," she said mildly. "You think it was this other guy Seth was raving about?"

"Emma said Seth wanted to 'get me away from the other man'... _whoever that is."_

"Maybe another player who wants a quick four million," Max suggested. "Y'know, Logan, we should head on down there and find out exactly what Seth knows. I wouldn't be surprised it there was all sorts of information locked away in that mind of his. We just have to ask the right questions."

"That's exactly what Emma said," Logan said wryly.

"I gotta pick up my bike from there anyway," Max reminded him.

He'd been so tired that when Max suggested leaving her bike at the safe house to travel home in the car with him, he hadn't even bothered to argue.

Logan suddenly looked at her as if he just understood what she'd said. "You wanna do this now?"

"Sure."

"_We can't."_

Max looked at him in surprise as he unlocked his brakes and headed back to his study.

"Am I missing something here?" she asked ironically as she followed him.

"We couldn't take the girls," he pointed out to her.

"It's Sunday. I'm sure Original Cindy would come over and watch them for us if she's home," Max suggested.

Logan looked distinctly uncomfortable at her suggestion. "You wouldn't wanna put her in any sorta danger would you? You said yourself we don't know who may be watching the apartment."

Max just looked at him for a moment. "I've still gotta pick up my bike," she reminded him.

Logan hesitated. Now that he knew the girls' real names, he hoped that would help him in the search for their parents, then their was Martin to contact, and he was feeling guilty about not having contacted Matt Sung for a few days, and above all he had to make sure he was in time for his appointment at the hospital and lastly, to be honest with himself, he just didn't feel up to it. He knew his temperature was starting to climb. He just hoped he'd be able to hold out until six.

Logan looked up at Max feeling suddenly very tired. _I could just tell her the truth..._"Why don't I call you a cab? I really wanna check out the leads I've got."

Logan looked up at her, but he couldn't hold her gaze. Those brown eyes of hers had a way of seeing right though him.

"Okay. So, you'll watch the girls, then." He thought her voice sounded a little brittle.

"Yeah."

"Okay," she said again, still looking directly at him. He was being nailed to the wall with those eyes and he wasn't finding it a pleasant experience.

"I might as well go now," she told him coldly.

Logan reached around to his desk to grab his wallet, but Max merely said, "No. Don't bother."

Then she was gone and he was left with his guilt.

-------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, Matt."

Logan looked out at the blueness of the sky, the sun glinting off the other high rises around him, a solitary airplane in the distance carrying people away from Seattle.

"Logan." Matt's voice was bright.

"Listen, Matt, I haven't been able to look into that suspension stuff for you yet. It's been kinda busy around here lately."

"Don't sweat it, Logan. My Captain's a good guy – he went through the complaint with a fine tooth comb and found enough holes in the perp's story to sink the Titanic."

"Great," Logan told him with feeling. "You find out who the guy was working for?"

Matt said two words succinctly, "The Russians."

Logan nodded. "It figures. So how's the head and the shoulder?"

"I must have a hard head." He could almost hear Matt smiling into the phone. "It feels great and the shoulder's healing nicely. I'm back doing light duties starting tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!" Logan repeated incredulously. "That's too soon!"

Matt sounded a bit embarrassed. "Well, a cop's base rate doesn't cover the bills. I need the overtime to survive."

Logan felt bad. "Matt, you just had to say..."

"Hey, Logan, it's not your worry. I don't expect _the man_ to pick up the tab for me on this thing."

Logan was silent for a moment, pressing his lips together with annoyance at himself that he hadn't thought this out sooner and covered the short fall for Matt instead of him having to go back to work before he was ready.

"Logan. It's fine, really," Matt assured him.

"Right," he murmured with dissatisfaction into the phone.

"I'll see if I can run down that lead I had, too...someone always has a theory on where a leak comes from. It'd be good to check if it definitely came from Witness Protection in the first place."

"Matt, _that's_ what got you shot in the first place," Logan protested.

"Well, this time I'll be ready for them," Matt replied seriously before hanging up.

Logan sat back with a thoughtful expression. He had the impression there was a personal note to Matt's suggestion.

"Hi," said a tentative voice from behind him.

Dumping the phone in his lap he turned around to see Genevieve.

"Hey," he smiled up at her as she came around to stand next to him, her face serious as she surveyed Seattle in the glow of the afternoon sunshine.

"It looks so nice out there," she said a little wistfully, eyes intent on the expanse before her.

Logan watched her. It seemed to him that her face was a little paler than usual, and were those dark smudges beneath her eyes? Remembering Bling's words, he felt bad that she'd spent such a bad night.

"I hear you didn't sleep so well last night." he said to her gently.

She shook her head.

As Logan watched the pale, blue eyes he was surprised to see two large tears well up in each one. She tried to blink them away, but that only made them course down the slightly freckled cheeks. More quickly followed.

"Hey," he said again, not quite knowing what to say or do. He wished Max were here.

A little tentatively, he reached out and took her hand in both of his, and she turned to face him with her tear stained face.

But he didn't see just _her_ face – he saw the faces of hundreds of kids like her, the ones he'd seen aimlessly wandering the streets who had strengthened his resolve to start Eyes Only, the ones he hoped would grow up not knowing the corruption of the present post Pulse society. And too often, at times like this, he felt that Eyes Only wasn't doing enough. There was simply too much darkness out there for him to fight.

"I'm okay, Logan," she said a little brokenly, giving him a teary smile. "I just miss my mommy."

Logan swallowed hard at her words. He felt he wasn't doing enough. He had to try harder. He'd made her a promise.

"It won't be too long now," he told her, wondering how long he could keep saying that.

Letting go of her hand he wheeled over to his study and brought back a box of Kleenex.

"I thought maybe you could do with some of these," he smiled.

She took them, still a little tremulous.

"It's kinda quiet down there," Logan said, suddenly realizing that he hadn't checked on Monique for a while.

"She's in the kitchen. I gave her a drink of milk," Genevieve told him, motioning airily in that direction.

"I'd better check," Logan decided aloud as he manoeuvred around the couch.

She wasn't in the kitchen when he got there and he was a bit surprised to find the refrigerator door open wide, as was every kitchen cupboard door.

"Okay, so this is what three year olds do when left to their own devices for too long," he muttered as he closed the refrigerator door. He had swung around to close the cupboard doors when a small voice inside his head warned him that the child was very quiet and it would really be far wiser to check up on her before he did anything else.

With a thoughtful expression he wheeled out of the kitchen and headed around the corner towards the bedrooms, only to stop suddenly as something caught his eye.

Quite clearly, along the glass panelling, was a suspicious, brown, smeary mark.

He sincerely hoped it wasn't what it looked like.

The next mark he saw, this time on the wall a bit further along, was the very distinctive outline of a child's handprint.

He thought it was all becoming a bit clearer now as he quietly wheeled further along the hallway until he got to the guest bedroom.

The door was closed, but he thought he could hear a shrill little voice singing what sounded like a self-composition about rain, and swimming and teddy bears.

Quietly Logan swung open the door.

The culprit turned to face him with startled eyes – not unlike the look of a cat caught by the blinding beam of a car's headlights.

Her face was covered in it, her clothes were covered in it, and her hand was stuck in it.

"Monique!" said Genevieve, now standing behind him, looking with fury at her little sister. "That's_ my_ Nutella!"

Monique looked nervously from Logan to Genevieve.

Apparently deciding that escape was out of the question, she tried her first defence – she smiled. It was the type of smile that says: _I know I've been really naughty here, but I am very cute, and after all, I'm only three._

Logan looked at her. He bit down hard on his bottom lip to stop it twitching as he manfully decided what course of action to take. He didn't really know much about it, but he had an idea that chocolate/hazelnut spread would be difficult to budge from the highly expensive deep pile rug that adorned the floor of the guest room.

Then again, he mused a little deviously, it was Bling who had bought the spread for the girls in the first place, and this was the second calamity to come of it, so it only seemed fair that he should be the one to get down on hands and knees to clean it off. The thought brought a gleam to his eyes and the beginnings of a smile to his face.

Monique, who'd been watching each passing expression carefully in case she needed to resort to defence number two, took this to be a good sign, and her own smile became a little wider.

"Logan angry?" she asked.

He tried to frown, he even tried to look angry. Finally, he came to the conclusion that he would be a failure as a parent.

"Logan, you've gotta be firm with her. She needs to be punished," Genevieve insisted with sisterly outrage as she looked at the prized jar of spread.

"I'm trying," he assured her, reaching down quickly for his phone as it unexpectedly started ringing.

"Hey."

"Logan Cale? It's Gwen from Metro Medical calling."

"Right," he responded curtly.

"I'm calling on behalf of Dr Forrest. He asked me to tell you that if you can be here in thirty minutes, he'll be able to fit you in as he's had a sudden cancellation...Mr Cale?" she added, as the other end of the line remained quiet.

"Right. I got that," Logan said quickly, trying to get his thoughts together.

"Good. We'll see you in half an hour, then."

Logan hung up then immediately punched in Bling's number. He waited tensely for some moments, then with a look of annoyance left a curt message on the voice mail.

"Logan, I'd better get a washcloth to clean her up," Genevieve said as he got off the phone.

"Okay," he agreed a bit vaguely as he looked at Monique, who'd happily gone back to licking the brown, gooey, mess off her hand. She seemed to prefer her fingers to the more conventional method of a spoon.

Logan considered the phone in his hand for a long moment. He seriously thought about calling Max, but he knew even if he wanted to she wouldn't be back in time.

Genevieve had come back from the bathroom by now and was trying to coax Monique into being cleaned up. Needless to say, the child was not co-operating.

"Hey, you girls wanna come on a drive with me?"

They both stopped and looked across at him.

"Where to, Logan?" asked Genevieve with a tinge of excitement.

"I gotta see my doctor," he admitted to them a bit reluctantly. "So it might not be all that exciting, but how about I buy you some candy while we wait?"

"You sick or something?" Genevieve asked.

"No," he assured her, adding, "well, not exactly." For some reason he was having a hard time answering her naïve question with anything except the truth.

She continued to look at him, as if expecting him to continue.

"I've got a cut on my knee that's infected," he finally admitted to her shortly and slightly inaccurately.

The child just nodded and jumped up saying, "I'd better change Monique. I'll meet you at the front door in five."

Feeling like he'd been summarily dismissed, Logan agreed with an, "Okay...five," and left her to the job of cleaning up Monique.

He felt dissatisfied that he had to go out before he'd done the tasks he'd set himself.

Pausing outside the door to his own room, he picked up the phone from his lap and punched in Martin's number one more time, but to his disappointment, it was the same result as the last four times. Nothing. The phone had been switched off.

---------------------------------------------------------------

They hadn't plunged the room into darkness and shone an achingly, glaring, bright light into his eyes.

They hadn't attached him to a charge that would send jolts of electricity sparking with an intense pain into his body.

They simply stood there, in front of him, and he was deathly afraid.

Petrovsky was an imposing man, tall with broad shoulders, and thick, dark, wavy hair.

In his pin stripe suit he looked more like a matinée idol of the forties.

Martin, however, found his smile sinister rather than charming, his eyes calculating rather than warm and his stance that of a predator rather than a lover.

"We want the girls," he told Martin in a mellow voice that held only the merest hint of an accent.

"What girls?" tried Martin, still man enough to be annoyed that his voice squeaked a little on the first word.

Petrovsky looked at his two henchmen who stood either side of him. Martin noticed warily that they all seemed to share some private joke.

"We know your interfering cousin has the girls in his care. You are going to get him to hand them over to us."

Martin actually laughed at that, such was his confidence in Logan.

"My cousin would never give those girls to you," he told Petrovsky scornfully.

Now it was the other man's turn to laugh, which he did – loudly.

"We don't plan to ask him nicely. You will help us. He trusts you – you're his blood relative after all," the mobster told Martin silkily.

"Look, I only did the stuff with Emma because I owed you money but I've raised the money now to pay you back. I want out of this deal!" he told them as determinedly as he knew how.

The gun Petrovsky produced wasn't huge, but Martin knew it didn't have to be to kill him.

The Russian studied him with an insolence he found infuriating, but that emotion was quickly replaced by another as the Russian walked around to stand behind him.

"We know about your cousin," he murmured into Martin's ear. "Did he ever tell you what it was like to be shot...how it felt when the bullet slammed into his back...what it's like to spend every day in a wheelchair with half a body that doesn't work? It would only take one shot. Here," he told him, digging the gun sharply into his spine, "and you'd simply crumple to the ground."

Martin could feel the beads of perspiration breaking out on his forehead.

"We _will_ get the girls with or without your help," Petrovsky added coldly. "It matters little to me how I do it - it will simply save me a bullet."

Martin felt his knees buckling already, and then they turned to rubber as he heard the cocking of the gun.

"I'll help you," he cried out as his knees sagged to the ground. "_I'll help you_."

TBC


	20. A Matter of Trust

My many thanks for all the reviews – they give me a nice warm glow!

Special thanks to Alaidh as always for her extremely thorough beta – it's very much appreciated as always.

Chapter 20

True to her word, Genevieve was ready at the front door in five minutes. She'd managed an amazing transformation with Monique, who was now totally Nutella free. Her clothes had been changed, hair brushed, and face and hands washed.

Logan grabbed his keys from the hall table and dumped them on his lap with his phone and jacket.

"Nice," he complimented Genevieve as he wheeled up to the two girls and saw the now sparkling clean Monique. "Okay, let's go," he started to say, but then stopped and looked at Genevieve with a frown. "Where are your jackets?"

"You're not wearing one," she pointed out quickly.

"But I've got it with me," he countered.

"I get them, I get them!" Monique called out frantically, rushing down the hallway as if Genevieve, who in fact hadn't moved, was trying to beat her to it.

Genevieve looked at Logan critically. "And you only have a shirt on_. I,_ at least, have a sweater. You probably have a fever," she added kindly, surprising him by putting a motherly hand on his forehead. She pronounced in a knowing manner, "Thought so," to his great amusement.

"Your mom teach you that too?" he asked her with a quizzical expression.

"I had an infected foot once. We were traveling and couldn't get to a doctor for a few days. I was real hot and had a headache and I threw up all over the car," she finished a little too graphically for his liking.

"I don't think we need to worry about me doing that," Logan told her quickly.

"Yeah, 'cause it's really hard to get the smell out. My dad scrubbed at it for ages but we had to leave the windows down for days and even then you could still smell it." She wrinkled her nose at the memory of it. "And then there was the time Monique threw up in the street and this huge dog came along and..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Logan quickly, whose stomach wasn't feeling all that wonderful. He definitely didn't need another of her vivid recollections. "I think I get the idea."

"Does your stomach feel bad?" she asked him solicitously.

"Let's not worry about it - here's Monique," he said, quickly changing the subject as the child returned with a pleased look on her face that she'd accomplished such an important task all by herself.

"I got them Logan. I got them," she told him and nearly everyone else in the apartment block.

"Great," he said, wincing a little at the volume. "Put it on and we'll go."

"You don't have your jacket on," Monique objected at once.

Logan just looked at her.

"That's 'cause Logan has a temperature," Genevieve informed her.

"What's a tempacha?" Monique asked.

By this time Logan had had more than enough of the whole topic and regretted that he'd even suggested the jackets.

"Tell you what – why don't you just carry them."

Both girls brightened at that suggestion, and Logan hurried them through the door and over to the elevator.

They had just made it to the car when Monique suddenly burst into tears.

Logan rolled his eyes a little as he put his key in the door. "What's wrong with her this time?" he asked Genevieve warily. He was beginning to learn the difference between a pain and a tantrum.

The child was stammering something through her sobs, but Logan had no idea what it was.

He looked across to Genevieve who was standing unconcernedly at the door, ready to get in, but she just shrugged. He couldn't say he blamed her. He couldn't expect her to have the patience of a parent in dealing with her sister.

_I certainly don't have the patience of a_ _parent,_ he had to acknowledge to himself as he felt his own frustration starting to rise as he sensed time relentlessly ticking by.

Suddenly he felt inspired. "She wants her doll," he told Genevieve, with a pleased snap of his fingers, wondering at the same time what it was about three year olds that they just couldn't simply ask for what they wanted without making it a game of charades.

Monique meanwhile continued to wail.

Logan looked at is watch, then looked at Genevieve. He took a deep breath. "We'll hafta go back up and get it, unless we want her crying all afternoon," he told her, raising his voice a little to be heard above her sister.

"I can get it, Logan. Just give me that little card you use."

Logan hesitated. He knew it would be much quicker for Genevieve to go up there by herself, but he just didn't like the idea.

"There aren't any monsters," she scoffed at him.

"Okay," he finally agreed, not entirely happy but in the end deciding he was probably being too overprotective. "Here you go," he said as he gave her the security card and his door key, adding, "Come straight back," as she ran back to the elevator.

Monique's tears magically disappeared as soon as she understood that her precious doll was going to come after all, and now quite contentedly climbed into the car when Logan opened the door.

Feeling that this proxy-parenting was definitely aging him, Logan swung himself into his seat, buckled his seatbelt, then dismantled his chair and stowed it on the passenger side, all the while feeling a little anxious that he'd let Genevieve go back up there by herself.

He'd only just looked up from his task when he saw Genevieve already approaching the car. With a sense of relief he turned the key in the ignition as she climbed in.

"Good girl," he said, glancing back to congratulate her. This time he _didn't_ miss the way his words made her blush and smile widely as she passed the doll to Monique.

Logan released the brake as soon as he heard her seatbelt click. He was still hoping to make his appointment on time. "Now, I want you kids to duck down like Max had you do the other day. Understand?"

He waited until both children were well below the level of the windows, then he pulled out of the parking garage.

Logan paused a moment before turning into the road, squinting a little in the still bright, afternoon sunshine after the gloom of the garage.

Unhurriedly, he studied his surroundings.

It worried him that Max had slipped up once and missed a tail. What chance did he have?

"Logan?" came Genevieve's voice.

"Keep your head down," he told her a little roughly, revealing his unease as, with a frown, he surveyed the area.

He checked again, taking note of the few parked cars at the side of the road, then pulled out onto the road, accelerating hard so that he could cut in between two cars driving by.

Still frustratingly aware of the time, Logan turned off the most direct road that would lead him to the medical clinic adjacent to Metro Medical, only to meander along several back streets.

Logan thought he was completely safe until, after a few moments, he saw a large, black sedan turn off and follow him.

Taking a surreptitious deep breath, his eyes darted to the compartment in his door where he'd managed to hide his gun from the girls.

He hadn't expected trouble.

Max had said there had been no one watching his apartment.

At last he let out the breath he'd been holding. The black car had turned off and he was once more the only car travelling in his direction.

Feeling a little less sure of his actions, he headed back to the main road and continued on his way.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Max paid off the cab driver and went around to the small garden at the back of the apartment block where she'd left her motorcycle.

Her full lips widened in a satisfied smile as she saw it was just as she'd left it.

Entering by a back door, she walked up the flight of stairs then followed the hallway once more to Apartment 6.

She put a hand up to knock, then paused and called out softly instead, "It's me. Max."

Her sensitive hearing picked up the sound of movement from inside, then the door opened a fraction and Emma Belding looked out at her.

Max put a hand up and pushed the door open further, forcing the other girl to stumble back a little.

"So, how ya doin'?" Max asked her, looking around with a small frown. "Where's Seth?" her next question shot out.

"He's out getting us some milk and bread," Emma snapped.

"Okay," Max said mildly as her eyes scanned the apartment. "Just checkin'."

Emma looked at her. "Has Logan...did he...he said he could help," she eventually finished uncomfortably.

"He's working on things," Max told her coolly, picking up a dog-eared paperback from one of the shelves and wondering if it had been some old favourite of Logan's.

"We can't stay here indefinitely," Emma protested. "Seth gets kinda agitated if he's not in his own place."

"Agitated enough to rip off the arms of innocent women?" Max asked bluntly.

Emma looked at her with a shocked expression. "You're sick if you think Seth would ever do a thing like that."

"We found a piece of paper in his bedroom with the details of where the girls were found," Max said a little more gently.

"He was trying to protect me," Emma said at once. "He knew I was hiding around South Market, and that's where the killings were. He was worried for me," she insisted. With a sudden note of doubt in her voice she added, "Does Logan think Seth killed those girls?"

Max looked at her, wondering what to say, but fresh in her mind was the intensity of Logan's expression a few hours earlier. "No. Logan doesn't think Seth is a killer," she admitted.

Emma looked relieved.

"Me on the other hand – well, let's just say I'm not so sure. After all, he did threaten Logan last night. I figured maybe people in wheelchairs and young girls were his thing, you know," Max suggested coolly.

A flash of anger crossed Emma's pale features.

"Didn't he tell you anything at all about the guy he said he saw last night?" Max pressed her.

Emma shrugged, clearly still upset by Max's words. "I don't know. It's hard to sometimes get a straight answer from him. He told me something about a gold ring and shiny shoes or big feet or something."

"Not much to go on," Max told her evenly.

"Look, Seth wouldn't _harm_ Logan," Emma said insistently, returning to the earlier comment. "He likes him. He only said that because he was worried about me and he knows that you're smarter than him. Seth told me you could take him," she added wonderingly as she looked at Max's deceptively slight physique.

Max shrugged. "I just know the right pressure points."

"You're very strong."

"Yeah, well my daddy wanted me to be a boy."

Emma considered Max carefully. "Logan trusts you to do the physical stuff. No wonder. I saw the way you took out Petrovsky's guy."

"He was outta shape," Max told her flippantly, but inwardly she was feeling increasingly alarmed.

"Logan must pay you a lot."

Max's eyes flashed. "Logan doesn't pay me _anything!_"

"I thought as much," the other said thoughtfully, her mouth curved upward in a small smile of understanding that made Max feel a little ill.

_Damn, I've been played_, Max realized, mentally kicking herself. One of the first rules: never expose an area of vulnerability – of course the one before that was never _have_ an area of vulnerability.

"But we have a deal," Max continued smoothly, scarcely skipping a beat as if she were finishing a sentence that Emma had interrupted. "A _business deal_," she emphasized to prove her point.

Emma nodded. "It seems to work," was all she said.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Max revved her bike hard to let loose some of her frustration. She didn't like the bitter taste in her mouth that told her she'd been outplayed.

Last night she'd felt a connection with the girl. She'd been surprised how quickly her sympathies had been raised.

She hadn't dared look too closely at Logan when Emma had told them about Seth. She wondered if he knew how much she had identified with Emma's dilemma. Was that why he hadn't looked up? Was that why he'd spent all that time studying the Band Aid on his finger?

It was easy to pronounce in a moment of cold rationality what one's sensible course of action should be, but lately she'd experienced a far stronger motive that dictated her actions. It was one that both thrilled and scared her, one that was somehow dangerous to admit, even to herself.

And Max was rarely scared.

------------------------------------------------------------

The basement of the apartment block where Logan had hidden Emma was an ugly place.

It had been used for years as little more than a garbage dump by the various tenants over the years who were too lazy to dispose of their unwanted goods in any other way.

For many years now, no one had even bothered to force open the door with its rusty lock and cobweb-covered hinges.

But now the mice and rats and spiders and any other scuttling creatures that enjoyed the inky blackness had a new companion.

Seth lay in a corner, only vaguely conscious.

The rope cut cruelly into his wrists and ankles and a gash at the back of his head bled sluggishly.

He tried to speak, but the dirty cloth that was stretched tautly across the side of his mouth made it impossible to shape the words.

Determinedly, he made the word the only way he was able to – little more than a hoarse whisper at the back of his throat.

"E...m...ma."

----------------------------------------------------------------

Logan glanced at his watch as he swung his car into the underground parking garage at Metro Medical.

He hoped, as was usually the case, the actual time he got in to see the doctor would be at least ten minutes later than the time designated.

Despite his concern over the time, he wouldn't let the girls out of the car until he'd waited a few moments to check that no one had followed them in.

After the earlier false alarm with the black sedan, his conscience was feeling decidedly murky. What if he'd risked their lives because he was too afraid to be honest with Max?

When no other car appeared, he let them get out.

Genevieve already had Monique out of the car by the time Logan had transferred.

"You wanna ride?" he asked the usual ball of energy who was looking a bit sleepy after nearly having dozed off in the car.

Monique simply put her arms out towards him as an answer.

"I'll put her on your knee for you," Genevieve offered, lifting the smaller child.

Once she was on his lap, Monique settled back comfortably, leaning back against his chest and slipping a thumb in her mouth. "I sleepy," she announced through her finger.

Her sleepiness lasted all of three minutes. Once they were in the elevator she insisted on pressing the button - every button.

It took Logan a few moments to persuade her that they only needed one button pushed this time.

Then she insisted on holding her doll, which Genevieve had thoughtfully brought with her.

Logan tried to resist her a little harder this time. He wasn't sure he wanted Monique plus a doll on his lap and he was so distracted by the ensuing argument that he nearly ran into one of the cleaners who was sweeping the floor almost right outside the elevator doors.

"Sorry," he told the man curtly, feeling more and more frazzled by the minute.

Finally they arrived at the area where the consulting rooms were. Logan looked at his watch. They were almost ten minutes late.

He didn't like being late for appointments, particularly when the receptionist had a sergeant major type demeanour and seemed to bark out her questions instead of asking them.

"Logan Cale to see Doctor Forrest," Logan told her quietly.

The receptionist consulted her appointment book. Without looking up she barked out, "Your appointment was nearly ten minutes ago, Mr. Cale."

Logan found his temper beginning to rise. It would have been hard enough as it was getting there in thirty minutes, let alone with two children in tow.

He had just opened his mouth to make a cutting reply when the receptionist looked across from her desk and saw Monique curled up in Logan's lap.

The transformation was nothing short of miraculous, Logan observed wryly.

The woman, Fran by her nametag, suddenly beamed brightly at him. "But I can see you have your hands full," she told him, bestowing a brilliant smile on Monique, which the little one returned quite readily.

"What a dear thing," Fran told Logan, "A relative?" she asked, knowing full well he had no children as his file was wide open in front of her.

"No. I'm babysitting for a friend," Logan told her a little shortly, not sure if he preferred the sergeant-major manner instead.

"Would you like a sticker?" she asked Monique, who immediately sat up straighter, then wriggled her way off Logan's legs.

"I want some candy," Monique told the woman none too subtly, taking the sticker of a bear nonetheless.

"Come on, I'll find you some," Logan said quickly, keen to get her away before Fran asked any more questions. There was a vending machine in the corner of the waiting room, and he headed towards it. Genevieve followed him, leading Monique by the hand.

The girls chose a candy bar each and a bag of potato chips each. Logan hoped this would keep them occupied while he waited.

He looked around, wondering if any of the other seven people in the waiting room were there to see Dr. Forrest or one of the other doctors on duty. He sincerely hoped not as he set his brakes next to the chair Monique was sitting on.

"Please, Logan," Monique asked, turning to him with her candy bar held out for him to open. Once he'd done that she held out her chips to be opened.

At that moment he looked up to see an elderly lady come in. She took the seat opposite and started staring, but for once it wasn't his wheelchair that had attracted the attention, but the children, particularly Monique. He supposed there wasn't anything else exciting to look at in the room – certainly not a particularly hideous poster in front of him showing a tobacco affected lung that he could only hope wouldn't give Monique nightmares.

"What pretty children," the old lady commented to him with a tender smile when she caught Logan's eye. "I have grandchildren that age in New York."

Logan nodded, and tried to look interested without actually having to start up a conversation with the old dear. He was wondering what Max was doing; would she have her bike yet; would she be heading back into his apartment by now and, more than that, he was wondering why he hadn't simply told her the truth.

The cleaner he'd almost run into now headed down the hallway and into the waiting area, sweeping and dusting as he went.

Logan restlessly looked about, watching the cleaner carefully sweep the waiting room floor. He could feel a familiar tension as he looked at the rows of vinyl chairs around the wall, the well-thumbed magazines, the bored or apprehensive expressions on those waiting. He wondered what they were all there for. Funny, he thought, how people in doctor's waiting rooms could appear to be perfectly well on the outside, but could possibly be facing some desperate health issue on the inside. _People like to hide all kinds_ _of hurts_, he mused darkly.

"Mr. Cale."

Logan looked up quickly, realizing in that instant that he hadn't planned what to do with the girls while he met with the doctor.

As if sensing his hesitation, the elderly lady said, "I'll watch the girls for you. I'll be waiting here for quite a while yet."

Logan looked at her and made a quick character assessment. He didn't think she looked like the type to carry a sawed-off shotgun in her handbag.

"Thankyou," Logan smiled at her as he released his brakes.

Genevieve, to his surprise, who'd been sitting there quite calmly, suddenly jumped up and said, "Can't we go in with you? We'd be real quiet."

"No Genevieve, You need to wait here. I shouldn't be too long."

"Pleeeese," she added, looking around the waiting room with a scared expression.

"Now who's scared of monsters?" he smiled gently at her, prying loose the hand that clutched at his arm. "I promise I won't be long."

"Come and sit with me, dear. We can talk if you like," the elderly lady suggested kindly.

Genevieve gave her a suspicious look and turned back to Logan with pleading eyes.

"_Genevieve_..." he simply said, immoveable on his stand.

The child looked at him then nodded dully.

The last image he had of her before heading in to see the doctor was of her standing disconsolately in the middle of the waiting room.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan slowly wheeled himself into the large, but cluttered, room with a deep breath. A few scenarios were spinning around in his head and he didn't like any them.

"Logan, what can we do for you today?"

He looked up at the doctor who was such a contrast to Sam Carr, his neurosurgeon.

Whereas Sam was particular in his personal appearance, with a professional manner that managed to be calm yet kind, Hal Forrest was more like an eccentric scientist in appearance with a shock of almost white hair and round, black-rimmed glasses that seemed to continually slip down his nose. Far from appearing calm, he seemed to exude a nervous energy and was inclined to go into raptures over difficult and interesting cases because they presented a challenge for him.

Thus it was he positively gloated over Logan's knees, once he'd had Logan strip to his boxers and pull himself up onto the examination table, rather than the usual tut tutting most doctors would have done. It was one of the reasons Logan liked him – as far as doctors went anyway, and for all his eccentricities he was regarded as one of the best in Seattle dealing with any issues relating to spinal cord injuries, which was why Sam had referred Logan to him in the first place.

"You've done a good job here," he positively beamed at Logan. "What have you got planned for the next twenty-four hours?"

That question made Logan feel decidedly jumpy as the doctor started pumping the band that was around his arm full of air to check his blood pressure.

"I'm babysitting two kids for a friend, actually," Logan told him, hoping he sounded immoveable on the point.

"We could have a problem there," Forrest murmured as he checked the reading.

"Is there a problem with my blood pressure?" Logan asked with a grimace.

"Eh? Blood pressure? No, it's fine – so far," he added, as if hoping it wouldn't stay that way. Normal blood pressure provided him with no challenge at all.

"Then what's the problem?"

Doctor Forrest looked at Logan from over the rim of his glasses. "You're a bright boy, Logan. You know we can't let something like this go on for too long. We need to nip it in the bud," he told Logan, pantomiming a pair of scissors with a vigorous 'snip' of his fingers. "Otherwise, before you know it, your blood pressure will be skyrocketing, heart rate plummeting, you'll feel like hell...If you don't already," he added, peering at Logan as if the thought had just crossed his mind.

"So, you're suggesting...?"

"Quick hospital stay, my boy. Pump you full of antibiotics and you'll be back in business in no time."

"Can't you just," and Logan hesitated a little before saying, "give me a shot instead?"

Dr. Forrest looked at him, contemplated his chart, examined his knees once more, cleared his throat, walked to the window, then walked back again to stand in front of Logan.

"Not my best option," he finally pronounced, "but we can give it a try."

Logan mentally wiped his forehead, then watched as the doctor grabbed a felt pen and began drawing a circle that outlined the inflammation on his knees.

"I'll give you a shot now, and a course of antibiotics to take home with you, but if the redness extends past the point that it is now, you'll have to come back ASAP. No buts."

Feeling like he'd got out of it better than he'd feared, Logan was almost philosophical as he watched the older man preparing the syringe.

"Bumped into your uncle the other day," Forrest murmured as he swabbed Logan's arm with an antiseptic wipe.

Logan nodded politely as he carefully turned his head away, wondering irritably to himself why they never stuck the damn things in his ass.

"Of course the man's a pompous bore," Forrest continued, ignoring Logan's involuntary flinch. "I suppose I shouldn't say that to you," he suddenly added as the thought struck him, looking at Logan over the top of his glasses

Suppressing his grin, Logan told him in a non-committal tone, "Well, I don't have a lot to do with them nowadays."

"Still, you don't want to isolate yourself," the older man rambled on. "It's good to have family or friends around you...someone you can _trust_," he finished with a keen look at Logan.

"Right," agreed Logan a little abruptly, wondering why he felt an uncomfortable stab of guilt at the doctor's words as he slid back down into his chair.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey girls."

Genevieve looked up from the ancient magazine she was pretending to concentrate on.

"You okay?" she asked quickly. Logan was a little touched to see the look of concern in her eyes.

He held his hands out wide. "No problems."

Her face broke into a smile and she turned to Monique, who had been the picture of good behaviour, quietly looking at some picture books with the elderly lady.

"Time to go, Monique," she told her.

The three year old rushed across excitedly to Logan, throwing her arms enthusiastically about his legs with enough force to make him glad he couldn't feel his knees.

The grey haired grandmother looked across at Logan. "Lovely girls," she smiled at him.

Logan was getting a bit embarrassed by this time, wondering if she thought they were his, so he nodded with a smile and said, "Yep. Friends...kids," he added a bit disjointedly, before thanking her for watching them.

"We going home now?" Monique asked him as she purposefully climbed up onto his lap.

"We are," Logan told her firmly, heading towards the elevator, but not before quickly checking that Genevieve held her doll.

"Hey, your doll's got eyes just like yours," he told Monique with a smile.

The child's eyes went to her doll, then totally unrelated she suddenly called out, "I wanna drink. I want Coke."

"_Mon_..." began Genevieve.

"Pleeeese,' the other jumped in very quickly.

Logan glanced at his watch. He was still hoping to be back before Max.

"Pleeeese, Logan," Monique tried again, this time tugging at his shirt.

"Okay, but you'll hafta drink it in the car," he warned her.

"She might spill it," Genevieve warned him quickly.

"Well, I can always clean it up if she does," was Logan's philosophical answer.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, buckle up," Logan called to the girls as he waited to pass them their large size Cokes. He had a vague idea that their mother wouldn't thank him for it, but it seemed the easiest way to avoid an argument when Monique insisted on the large size because Genevieve had one.

"She won't drink it all," Genevieve had warned him yet again, but by that time he was just too tired to worry about it.

"Doesn't matter. We can always dump it out later."

Once he'd passed them their drinks, after making sure their seatbelts were on, he opened his own door, positioned his wheelchair, then hauled himself, with a little difficulty, into his seat and stowed the wheelchair beside him.

_Logan, you gotta get some sleep tonight_, he told himself ruefully as he stared out the front windshield, hoping desperately that the meds Dr. Forrest had given him would kick in soon.

He could hear the girls sipping happily on their drinks through their straws, and he took the opportunity to take a few quick swigs of the bottled water he'd bought for himself before starting the car.

He wondered idly what Max was doing as he got out his cell phone and turned it on, checking for messages.

There weren't any, so he concluded, a little guiltily, that Max must be still out.

He was about to change it to hands free so that he could use it should someone call while he was driving, when his phone unexpectedly rang.

"Logan," said the other voice.

"Martin. Where are you?" said Logan quickly.

"I got some good news for you. I found the girls parents," his cousin's voice came back a little jerkily over the line.

"What?" Logan snapped, glad the girls couldn't hear Martin's end of the conversation.

"I used some of Dad's contacts with the FBI. Found out their name was Hackett. I'm with them now, Logan."

"I'm amazed," Logan said slowly into the phone.

"Can you meet with me now? Brad and Sharon are really keen to see their kids."

"Now?" Logan questioned with surprise. "What's the hurry?"

"Wouldn't you be in a hurry to see your kids if you'd been separated? I thought you'd be keen to get them out of your hair, Logan."

Logan thought quickly.

"They _are_ their kids, Logan. I'm just doing what they asked," Martin continued insistently.

"So, where are you?" Logan asked brusquely.

"The FBI has them in some sort of converted warehouse at the corner of Fairmont and Ridge."

"I'll find it," Logan replied shortly as he turned his head to quickly look at the girls.

Genevieve looked up and smiled trustfully at him. She'd been quietly chanting rhymes to Monique.

"How soon can you make it?"

"When I'm there," Logan snapped back. "Wait for me."

Logan hung up, then stared unseeingly out his windshield where the wipers had left the screen free of dirt.

His thoughts were uneasy...suspicious.

Was it possible that Jonas could so easily accomplish what he had been trying for days to do? The thought niggled at him annoyingly.

Still, it was undeniable - Martin had all the facts; he certainly had the names right at least.

Logan absently rubbed his forehead where it still ached. The thing that bothered him the most was the note of desperation in Martin's voice.

"Logan..._Logan_...we going?"

Genevieve undid her seatbelt and leant forward. When Logan still didn't respond she tentatively put a hand on his shoulder.

He turned around quickly to look at her.

"You okay? You look kinda...funny," she finished with a dissatisfied shrug that meant 'funny' wasn't the word she'd wanted but she couldn't think of anything else.

Logan nodded, absently biting his lip as he returned his gaze to the windshield where, once again, he viewed the surrounding cars with narrowed eyes.

Genevieve let her own gaze follow that of Logan's, but she could see nothing there that would be so fascinating to him. She began to look a little scared and she hushed Monique irritably when the child began to make noises of discontentment that they weren't moving.

Monique's whining quickly progressed to the point of being uncomfortably loud in the small confines of the car.

"Logan," Genevieve said again, giving his shoulder a small shake this time with her hand as she warily looked around outside the car. "I wanna go," she added in a small voice.

This time her touch seemed to break the spell and he lost the far away look in his eyes, as if he suddenly seemed to realize where he was. He looked at Genevieve and said, "We gotta go."

More than a little confused, she sat back and did up her seatbelt again as Logan turned on the ignition, released the brake, and let the car inch forward, his mind still furiously analysing the situation he found himself in.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Max knew as soon as she walked in the door that the apartment was empty.

Out of habit, she called his name anyway.

"Why am I not surprised," she muttered as she headed to his desk.

"Now that _is_ a surprise," she murmured as she saw a sheet of printer paper folded neatly in half and left clearly for her on his computer keyboard.

_Max – I had to go out for a while. I've got the girls. Be back soon._

Then, almost as an afterthought, it looked like he'd quickly scrawled at the bottom, _Don't worry._

"Gee, thanks," she told the silent room, a conflicting array of emotions momentarily coursing through her as she headed to the windows in his living room and looked down, as if she could somehow see his car returning from such an impossible angle.

Sitting on the windowsill with one leg up in front of her she stared outside. She wondered why she didn't feel angry, or worried, or annoyed or a thousand other emotions – the only emotion she really felt was one of hurt.

Hurt that he still couldn't trust her.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Uh oh."

Logan quickly glanced in his rear-view mirror. "Uh oh? What does 'uh oh' mean?" he asked Genevieve quickly.

Monique's sudden cry told him exactly what she meant. "She dropped her drink, didn't she," he told Genevieve fatalistically.

"Yep."

Logan's response was a quick, sharp grunt of frustration.

"I told yah she would," Genevieve untactfully reminded him.

"You did," Logan acknowledged dryly, looking for a store to replace her drink so that she would stop crying.

He looked distractedly out the window with a mind that was still firmly set on the problem before him.

_Coke and cousins_, he thought with a sigh, only to immediately change his expression from one of frustration to one of sudden enlightenment as he realized in those two words he had the answer to his problem.

Within minutes he'd stopped outside a small Asian general store.

Logan put his hand into the top pocket of his shirt and pulled out a ten-dollar bill.

"Here, Genevieve. You take Monique in there and buy her a drink and show her some of the toys down the back, and I'll be there in a minute."

Genevieve quite happily took the money he held out to her, but then looked at him suspiciously and said, "What are you gonna do?"

"I'll be there in a minute. I gotta make a phone call."

Logan watched them until they were safely inside, then he dialled his own number.

"Hey, it's me," he said a little uneasily as Max answered his phone.

"Yeah," Max answered abruptly.

Logan hesitated for several moments, his face betraying the unease he felt.

"You still there?" Max's voice prompted him.

"You get my note?"

"Yep. Not that it told me anything." This time Logan thought he could hear a distinct note of dissatisfaction in her voice.

"I had to see my doctor," he told her quickly. "It was kinda urgent and he could fit me in so I took the girls with me."

The silence her end spoke volumes.

"I had a call from Martin," Logan went on, keen to change the subject.

Max wasn't ready to let him off the hook so easily as she stood by his computer desk where she'd answered the phone, one hand on her hip with an attitude that said she was in anything but a conciliatory mood.

"So...what was wrong?" she asked evenly.

"Well, Martin..."

"Not with Martin - with you," she snapped a little, with a frustrated gesture swapping the phone to her other hand. "You dying or something or what?" she asked bitingly, then winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth as that had been exactly what had almost happened not so many months ago.

"No," his answer came back dryly, "it was just a problem with those grazes on my knees. I didn't do the right thing...they got infected. No big deal."

Max listened carefully, not so much to the words themselves, but to each nuance, each inflection.

"Must've been all that praying you've been doin' lately," Max told him. She knew Logan well enough to appreciate what it cost him to admit that to her.

Logan smiled back. "Oh yeah."

"So Martin's not dead either, then?" Max continued, feeling far more charitable towards him again.

Thankful for the now warmer tone to her voice, Logan quickly told her of his cousin's phone call.

"How could he know all that stuff?" she wondered aloud when he'd finished.

"I think I know how," Logan admitted quietly. He couldn't help wondering if the warm tone he had welcomed just a few moments ago was destined to disappear again. "When I checked his phone calls this morning there were three to Petrovsky's casino."

"Oh," was all she replied.

"I wasn't sure what that meant...so I didn't want to tell you about it."

For once Max ignored his inability to be completely truthful with her. "So what are you gonna do? I don't like the sound of this, Logan. He could be in bed with the Russians..."

"_Max_," Logan interjected.

"...or they're using him to get to you to get to the girls."

"Let's go with the second scenario. If Petrovsky's holding Martin, I don't see that I have any choice."

"_Logan_," Max warned him.

"Listen. I've got an idea."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan drove towards the warehouse area, constantly checking his watch.

He knew that timing would be important to his plan.

Late on a Sunday afternoon, the area was practically deserted. Logan wasn't sure if he should be grateful for the fact, or all the more worried.

He was still a few streets away from his destination. There was only one major road into the small industrial centre where Fairmont and Ridge were located and he slowly swung into it.

They must have been waiting for him.

Logan didn't see them until it was too late. The first car roared at him from one of the crossroads at his right.

Logan turned his head and found himself, as it were, looking at a movie in a darkened room. He felt for a moment as if time had slowed down, even though everything about him was happening at breakneck speed. In that one glance he knew exactly what was going to happen as he experienced a quintessential moment of time when all things could be viewed with perfect clarity.

Of course he recognized the scenario – you don't forget the nightmare that has relentlessly tormented you over and over again.

And then abruptly, he was back in the waning afternoon sunlight. The moment of awareness passed and the events in his life approached him at full speed once more.

He pulled the car towards the left in a defensive manner but he knew the others would be entering the intersection to cut him off – to block his only means of escape.

The Aztek hit the second car with a bone jarring shock that brought it to a sudden halt.

Logan placed both hands, now slick with perspiration, on the steering wheel of his car.

He felt like he was in some sort of a vacuum where every sense was magnified – he was clearly aware of his heart thumping with an almost painful intensity in his chest, the sandpaper-like dryness of his mouth, the sudden chill that swept through his body even though his skin burned to the touch.

They were walking towards him slowly now with the confidence of the victorious.

Logan didn't reach for his gun – instead he turned on instinct to look at the back seat.

The blue eyes stared back at him unblinkingly.

TBC


	21. Promises

Thankyou so very much for all the encouraging reviews.

As always, a big thankyou to Alaidh for taking time out from her busy schedule to beta this chapter for me. It's greatly appreciated.

Chapter 21

A deceptive tranquillity fell on Logan as he turned back to watch the four figures approach. They seemed to waver in his vision with an almost ethereal, dreamlike quality.

He knew they were coming for her. He had to get her out of the car, he told himself...he had to run. But the debilitating lethargy that was enveloping him was almost impossible to resist and he sat immoveable in his seat - awaiting the inevitable with fatalistic certainty.

After all, he knew what was going to happen. They'd take her and he'd be powerless to stop them.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Max sped around the corner at breakneck speed, still wondering how she had let Logan talk her into his plan.

"Stupid," she chastised herself yet again, only to break off suddenly as her senses took in the enormity of the situation before her.

She could see Logan's car ahead of her, clearly wedged against another, but it was the four men with guns approaching him that made her full lips tighten with a grimace of determination as she pressed hard on the accelerator.

"Change of plans, Logan," she ground out emphatically.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The first black-suited man to reach the car door yelled out, "Keep your hands where we can see them."

By this time all four of them had reached the car. Logan tensed instinctively as the first man wrenched open his door.

"We want the kids," he stated menacingly.

Logan narrowed his eyes, trying to focus, but all he could see were the crumpled figures on the ground.

All dead.

A wave of remorse swept over him and he closed his eyes with a grimace of contempt for himself as he heard them open the back door. It was the moment he'd been dreading. The moment when he'd failed.

Someone was yelling now, screaming a question with an insistent force.

Vaguely the words began to penetrate his consciousness and he looked up to see a man's head suspended above his own and found, to his great surprise, that the words were coming from the man's mouth and they appeared to be directed at him.

"Where are they? We want the kids!"

Logan looked up at the face that loomed above him uncomprehendingly, barely aware of the hand at the neck of his sweat-soaked shirt shaking him and pulling him forward against the seat belt.

Unexpectedly, Logan became aware of the salty taste of blood in his mouth and an intense pain at the side of his face. In that moment the fever-induced images that had filled his mind were swept away as the body decreed his senses should take note of the newer sensation of sudden, impossible-to- ignore, stinging pain.

Logan absently put the back of his hand up to his mouth, wiping away the blood, as he dazedly realized he was in his car surrounded by Petrovsky's men, not Sonrisa's.

Abruptly Logan looked up attentively as he heard the unmistakable sound of a screaming motorcycle engine coming towards him.

From his position, all Logan could make out as he tried to see past the figure at his doorway were the two men at the front and back doors of his own car. Standing a bit behind them were two other men. They all held guns that were unwaveringly pointed in his direction.

The five men would have been less than human if they hadn't turned around to see what a shapely, black-clad figure was doing heading towards them on a motorcycle.

Not quite sure whether to be relieved or angry by this latest development, Logan eyed the gun in the hand of the man at his side.

As soon as he saw the man in the black suit look away, he lunged at it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two men standing away from the car watched curiously as the motorcycle approached, only to change their expression to one of horror. Their eyes widened as they realized the machine was headed directly at them .

"Hey," one of them called out frantically, only to be knocked down like a bowling pin as Max's machine hit his legs as she let the bike fall into a controlled slide.

She jumped off the motorcycle as soon as it had almost come to a complete stop. Kicking both legs free of the machine, she flung herself at the next man with a flying tackle. The quickness of the attack had been such a surprise that he scarcely had time to react before he hit the ground. Max made sure he stayed there by delivering a resounding blow to his jaw.

She jumped up in a smooth, fluid movement, preparing to take on the first man again as he untangled himself from her motorcycle with surprising speed.

Suddenly, she froze.

"You move again, little lady, and your friend here's a dead guy."

Max didn't even look at Logan, or the gun pressed hard into his temple.

"What makes you think he's a friend?" she shrugged. "I just rolled in here to even up the odds, that's all." She smiled one of her more alluring smiles at them – the perfect picture of the misunderstood thrill seeker.

"In that case you won't mind if we blow his brains out," the man in the black suit smiled back, tightening his finger ever so slightly on the trigger.

"Okay, okay, maybe we'll play it your way," she changed her mind quickly, but added a casual shrug nonetheless.

"Thought you would," the other retorted. "Vladimir. Check the car again," he barked out to one of the men.

"No sign of any girls," the other man shouted after having peered in both the back seat and the hatch.

Logan felt the gun dig even harder into his temple as the man put his face close to Logan's and ground out with fury, "Where are the kids?"

Logan shook his head. It was all he could manage at that moment.

"What do you know about it?" he heard one of them say to Max and he felt the gun removed from his temple. The voice then added with certainty, "Greville will get it out of you."

He couldn't hear Max's reply. His nervous system was still protesting loudly about the treatment it had received – a sudden, powerful surge of adrenalin coupled with a raging temperature didn't make for a good combination.

Logan barely had time to grab onto the steering wheel and door stanchion for support as he felt his stomach starting to rebel. With senses spinning, he leaned over, swallowing hard in the hope he could hold on to his dignity. He studied the roadway, examining every pebble and crack with fascinated intensity, hoping to distract himself from the nausea that was rising in his throat. He had no intention of fulfilling Genevieve's prophesy.

At some stage, a pair of brown, polished, snakeskin shoes appeared in his line of vision, but it was a few minutes before he felt it sufficiently safe to lift his head. Thankfully, the nausea receded, leaving him feeling cold and clammy.

"Feeling better, Mr. Cale?" asked a sardonic voice a few moments later.

"Feeling better than you look," Logan replied evenly, glancing up at the speaker while he pushed himself back against the seat with shaky arms.

Petrovsky's right-hand man certainly looked the worse for wear. He held his gun in his left hand because his right hand was covered in a pristine plaster cast and the still flowering bruise on his face seemed to cover his entire left jaw.

_Remind me not to get on Max's bad side_, thought Logan wryly as he straightened his glasses a little and looked around for the person that had inflicted the injuries.

Max was standing quietly, not far from him. Four men with guns were ranged about her menacingly, but she managed to look completely unconcerned. She gave Logan a wry look of sympathy as he caught her eye.

"They haven't brought the kids, Greville," one of the underlings said to Petrovsky's lieutenant.

Greville looked back at Logan with something like a sneer. "You're going to be very sorry that you didn't bring us the girls." Abruptly he turned to the men standing behind him. "Oleg, check out the cars. We need to get out of the street and into the warehouse. You, girl! Come here!"

Max eyed him with something like revulsion for a brief moment, then sauntered over to Greville with a nonchalant swagger.

Greville reached over and put his gun back at Logan's temple. "I'd prefer you both alive for the time being, but I won't be distraught if you push your luck. This gun stays at his head. One wrong move and it goes off. Got it?"

Max shrugged. "Not very original. You've been watching too many 'B' grade movies on the late show."

Greville smiled. "Oh, I've got a few blockbusters up my sleeve, yet. Don't worry about that."

"Can't wait," murmured Max insouciantly.

"This car should drive. Looks like ours took the brunt of the impact," Oleg reported back.

"Okay, Oleg, come with me. Keep your gun at the girl's head. Don't trust her for a moment," he added, with a smile for Max's benefit. "Get in the car. Front passenger seat," Greville told her, motioning with his head.

Max threw a quick glance at Logan, then walked around to the other side of the car.

"Vladimir, you others follow in the other car." His eyes went to the man sitting groggily on the roadway. "Bring Viktor with you."

Max stood by her door. "We're all gonna be a little cramped in here," she told Greville, gesturing with her hand towards Logan's wheelchair.

"Move it to the back, then," he told her calmly. "Remember that my gun is at his head."

While Max grabbed his chair, Greville quickly slid into the seat behind Logan. "You like to play with dolls, Mr. Cale?" he smirked as he looked at the doll sitting upright on the seat beside him, "or maybe it means that the girls are somewhere close by," he added silkily.

"Or maybe I'm just bent," Logan said coldly.

Feeling a little disappointed that Greville hadn't chosen to accompany them alone to the warehouse, Max did as she was told, all the while her thoughts on a possible plan of escape.

It was complicated, because she knew Logan had no intention of escaping until he had ascertained Martin's safety. If they couldn't leave together, she had no intention of leaving at all.

She heard Logan start the car as she stowed his chair, then Oleg was at her side, waving his gun about a little wildly as he told her to get back in the car. Max merely glanced at him with contempt and walked back to her seat.

"Drive," Greville told Logan as soon as she was in.

Max saw his look of annoyance as Greville dug the gun into the back of his head. As she scanned his face carefully, she came to the conclusion that, for the moment, he seemed to be okay.

As if aware of her scrutiny, Logan turned his head the slightest bit to glance at her. "Gatecrasher," he murmured under his breath, but she could see he was angry with her.

She had to hold back her own retort. Greville would be listening intently to any exchange of words between them.

Too quickly for her liking, they were at the warehouse. Greville made Logan wait while one of the men from the other car jumped out and pulled back the heavy, wooden sliding doors.

Max studied the building with interest. The warehouse was like dozens of other ones to be found in Seattle – a slightly decrepit timber construction that appeared to be in need of both paint and nails. The sun was virtually gone now and the area looked depressing and deserted. She held back a sigh. She'd been in worse situations than this.

"In," Greville snapped at Logan, prodding his head again with the gun.

_One more prod_, Max warned him silently.

Logan slowly drove the Aztek into the large warehouse, and looked about warily. It seemed to be deserted except for themselves and the car full of Russians following them.

"Stop here and get out," Greville commanded them.

Max opened her door and wordlessly headed to the back of the car to retrieve Logan's chair, all the while being followed by Oleg and his nervous twitch. The man gave her the creeps.

"Thanks," said Logan quietly as she opened his door and put his chair next to it.

Max looked at the four Russians, all dourly facing them with guns at the ready. "Don't y'think this is a little bit of overkill?" Max wondered aloud to Greville as she watched Logan transfer.

"Instances of longevity in my line of work are becoming increasingly rare. It pays to take precautions," he told her dryly.

"No welcoming committee?" Logan asked as he put is feet on the footrest. "I'm disappointed."

"Oh, Petrovsky will be here, don't worry about that. He just had a few loose ends to tie up on the way. After you," he added suavely.

The man was a complete pro, thought Max. He'd given her no chance whatsoever to make a move. Unobtrusively slowing her pace to match that of Logan, she carefully scanned the warehouse for future reference as she headed in the direction Greville indicated. With his gun rammed hard between Logan's shoulder blades, he made them head towards a heavy-looking, metal door.

"I do hope you won't be too uncomfortable in here, but it shouldn't be for too long," Greville said 'apologetically' as he motioned them both through the door and into a medium sized, white-walled room that appeared to have been a refrigerated storage room at some stage. "Oh, one thing more - Oleg, check them for weapons."

The nervous-looking Russian seemed to find this a job to his liking as he tucked his gun into his waistband and headed towards Max.

"Hands on the wall, feet apart_ is,_ I believe, the usual routine for this," Greville purred.

Logan's eyes narrowed as he watched the Russian's hands feel their way up Max's leg, but he quickly lowered them as Oleg got to her thighs and between her legs. There were certain times when he would have sold his soul to the devil himself if it meant being able to stand.

"Is this making you uncomfortable Mr. Cale?" Greville asked with cynical amusement. He had little satisfaction from Logan, however, who immediately looked him full in the face with defiant unconcern.

"Finished?" asked Max in a bored tone.

Oleg stepped back with a grunt. "She's clean," he stated rather obviously in his thick accent as he handed Greville her pager.

"Good. Now, the other one," Greville continued, nodding towards Logan. "Raise your arms please."

Logan threw Greville an annoyed look but did as he was told, submitting himself to the search with a resigned air. Oleg seemed to be sure he'd hidden a gun somewhere on the chair when he didn't find one in his clothing and insisted that Logan lift his body from the seat to ensure that this wasn't the case.

"Happy?" Logan asked him sarcastically when he was finally finished.

"No gun," Oleg reported to Greville in the dull tone of one used to being subordinate, handing him Logan's phone and car keys.

Max held her arms across her chest. The room was as cold as a tomb even though the refrigeration unit was no longer operating.

"Hey, it's kinda cold in here. I've got my jacket on, but Logan's is in the car," Max said to Greville in a neutral voice.

The Englishman considered her for a moment, then swung his gaze to Logan. Like Max, he sat in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. Judging by the impassive expression on his face he appeared unconcerned as to whether Greville agreed to the request or not.

"I'll see," was all he commented, and Max wasn't willing to press the point further. If Greville was to believe they were nothing more than business partners like she'd told Emma Belding, she couldn't appear too concerned for his welfare.

"Please make yourselves comfortable," Greville encouraged them, looking about the austere room that was completely devoid of anything other than some garbage strewn about the floor. Perhaps he was a little disappointed that only Oleg smiled at his wit. "I'm sure Petrovsky won't keep you long. He's very keen to meet both of you."

Max watched them leave the room. She'd had the opportunity to take him any number of times but...

"What are you doing here?" Logan's voice broke into her thoughts. He sounded plain angry.

"Slight change o' plans," Max shrugged, moving to the door and checking it as a matter of course, then letting her eyes roam around the insulated room. There was no window. The room was lit by two fluorescent overhead lights, and the walls were some sort of moulded plastic. "So this is what it's like to live in a refrigerator," she tried as a feeble joke.

Max glanced at Logan. He didn't appear to appreciate her humour.

"Although it doesn't look like_ your_ shelf-life is too long at the moment," she added casually, throwing him a discerning look. She'd been concerned at the obvious effort it had taken him to transfer to his chair back at the car.

"I'm okay," he told her shortly.

"Yeah...Right," she answered him with heavy sarcasm. "Looks to me like you should be in a hospital."

"It's just this damned fever. Once it's gone..."

"_Logan_..." she began, then stopped uncomfortably. He didn't need her to point out the possible side effects of an injury to the parts of his body that couldn't feel it and she was certainly reluctant to disclose the fact that she'd studied up on his condition.

"The point is that you're not even meant to _be here_. Your job was_ lookout_," he insisted.

"I got bored," she answered flippantly. "Wonder what they're up to out there?" Max murmured, listening through the heavy doors.

Logan merely shook his head. He could hear nothing through the heavy insulation.

"Now you're stuck here with _me!"_ he continued, still annoyed at her failure to follow his plan. He'd never meant for her to be captured by Petrovsky as well.

"What?" she asked him with raised brows. "You tired of my company already?"

"_Max,"_ he simply said with a grunt of exasperation, only to look around suddenly as the door swung open and someone was shoved inside.

"_Martin,"_ Logan said in a relieved voice. "You're all right?"

"He won't be by the time I get through with him," snarled Max who literally sprang at him and had him thrown back against the wall with both hands at his throat the instant Logan's words were out of his mouth.

"You set Logan and the girls up," she ground out, watching with satisfaction as his face began to turn red due to lack of oxygen.

"Max, _don't_," called out Logan to her, releasing his brakes and quickly wheeling up to where she had Martin pinned against the wall.

Martin was squirming desperately now. "They made me do it! I didn't want to," he defended himself, barely able to talk.

"_Max_," Logan insisted again.

"What, they threatened to kill you? Bamboo under the fingernails? Chinese water torture?" taunted Max, loosening her hold a little for Logan's sake.

Martin shook his head dumbly, but his eyes betrayed the memory of the terror he'd felt.

"Just _what was it_ they said that could make you put at risk the lives of two innocent children – not to mention your own _cousin_," Max goaded him mercilessly.

Martin's face broke out in a sweat at even the memory of that conversation in Petrovsky's study. It had been some time before his legs had been able to hold him and even now he still felt the affects of the sheer terror he'd felt as the gun was pressed against his spine.

"I had to tell them, Logan," he rushed out the words as he felt the pressure on his larynx ease. "I figured you'd have some plan – that you'd see through it all."

Max let him go with disgust.

"I understand," Logan told him, discomforted to see Martin's obvious trauma.

Martin just looked at him, then he swallowed hard and an expression of anguish and remorse crossed his features.

Keeping his head down, eyes staring at the floor he said in a strained voice as if he were in a confessional, "They held a gun at my back. They said if I didn't do what they said they'd... they'd shoot me in the spine and ... I'd be just like you," he finished with barely a whisper.

That was it for Max. In one stride she had reached him and swung her arm back, the contact of the palm of her hand to his face sounding like the crack of a whip.

Martin's head jerked back and he hit the wall. In slow motion he began to slowly slide down it, his senses on the very edge of losing consciousness.

Max cast a quick look at Logan. His expression was enough to make her want to hit Martin all over again. Damn. Was the fool so insensitive that he couldn't see how his admission would affect Logan? _I should have kept my big mouth shut as well_, she suddenly fumed, wishing she hadn't been so intent on exposing Martin's weaknesses. She stepped away from Martin with a look of unadulterated disgust and viciously kicked at an old tin that was lying on the ground by her foot.

The unexpected sound echoed in the room and made both Logan and Martin look at her quickly, but it was Martin who spoke.

"I deserved that," he said with more decisiveness than Max had ever heard in him.

"Is that Logan's jacket you've got in your hand?" Max spat at him.

Martin looked down with a measurement of surprise. "I forgot. Greville gave it to me to bring in here."

Max snatched it from his hands and passed it to Logan, who was thankful to put it on over his shirt.

"Now give me your coat," Max told Martin, eyeing the stylish woollen three-quarter length coat he wore over his slacks and sweater. The overalls were no more to be seen. Apparently he'd given up his undercover disguise.

Martin looked a little surprised by her request, but did as he was told.

"Here, put this over your legs," she said to Logan.

When he immediately protested she just looked at him and said bluntly, "If we're gonna get outta here I need you conscious."

Logan returned her look with one of his own, but did as she directed, draping the heavy coat over his legs. He would have given anything to be able to feel the warmth of it just then.

"Does Petrovsky really have the girls' parents?" he asked Martin as soon as he'd arranged the coat.

Martin shrugged. "I don't know. I just said what he told me to."

Max, who could still hardly bear to look at Martin, gave Logan an 'I told you so' glare, which he returned with raised brows.

It was going to be a long evening, he mused darkly, if Petrovsky didn't show up soon.

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They waited mostly in silence for the next hour for Petrovsky to show up.

Martin sat in his same position, mostly with his head down, staring at the floor. Logan and Max made desultory conversation, but for the most part were silent as well.

Max paced restlessly, stopping every now and then to either listen carefully or look across at Logan, who somehow managed to doze off now and then by leaning against one of the walls.

At one point she stood by his side for several moments, carefully watching to check that he was asleep. Once satisfied she lay a cool hand across his forehead. He didn't stir. When she turned around she found Martin's eyes on her.

"Something wrong with Logan?" he asked with surprise.

"Shut up," she spat back at him, returning to her pacing without another glance in either his or Logan's direction.

When the door finally opened it caught them all by surprise.

The fidgety Oleg was the first to enter the room, followed by Greville, who didn't seem to be at all perturbed by their long stay in the cool room.

"We're ready for you," he told the assembled company, as if announcing an audience with the President himself.

TBC


	22. Responsibilities

A big thankyou for the encouraging reviews – they were very much appreciated.

A very big thankyou to Alaidh for the beta! I always wonder how I come to miss so many commas – not to mention all my other mistakes!

Chapter 22

It was gloomy in the main area of the warehouse as compared to the bright lights in the refrigeration room and it took Logan and Martin a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the comparative darkness.

Logan had pulled the coat from his legs and tossed it back to Martin before leaving the white-panelled room.

Once again they were facing an impressive array of gun power.

Logan could just make out two people standing in the shadows. Petrovsky's men stood on either side of them.

"Emma?" asked Martin a little uncertainly, staring at her while he shrugged his arms and shoulders back into his coat.

Max looked at her suspiciously, Martin with something like relief, and Logan with concern.

Emma, for her part, stood silently next to the man Max and Logan assumed was Petrovsky.

"I'm disappointed with your cousin, Martin," Petrovsky told him, walking slowly from the shadows to stand in front of Logan, beneath one of the hanging, overhead lights.

"I'm guessing you're Ivan Petrovsky," Logan said to him with a hint of attitude as he looked up at the impeccably groomed Russian.

"Where are the Hackett girls?" Petrovsky asked him bluntly.

Logan shrugged. "I don't know."

"You're lying," Petrovsky smiled down at him.

Logan looked back at him coolly. "The kids don't know anything about the money. Why bring them into it?"

"Because they're my leverage, of course - parental concern...all that sort of thing."

"I told him none of us know anything about the money, but he still doesn't believe me. He has some warped idea that if he gets all of us together he'll make us talk." Emma's voice came forth from the shadows with a note of pained resignation.

Logan looked quickly at Max. He knew she would be able to see Emma's expression regardless of the distance and half light.

"You're luckier than the others," Max told her. "You've still got both your arms," she congratulated her.

Abruptly, Emma stepped out from the shadows.

"Why shouldn't I have?" she asked them coldly.

"Because the dirtbag next to you has been killing off females about your age who wore any type of large ring," Max hazarded.

"Did you see Seth?" Emma asked Max, almost with a note of desperation. "Do either of you know where he is?" she added with raw concern, her pleading eyes now taking Logan in as well.

"The 'tsar' here brought you here. I'd assume he knows where Seth is too," Max suggested coolly to her.

"We haven't seen Seth," Logan told her gently, quick to perceive the crushed look that crossed her features at their news.

"So you must be Max," Petrovsky was saying in his clipped tones with a hint of an accent. "Martin has told me so much about you both," he added, as if they were friends of his son meeting for an afternoon basketball game.

"Well, I wouldn't believe most of what Martin said," Logan told the other quickly, wondering just what it was his cousin had told Petrovsky. "He's always had an overactive imagination."

Martin, standing a little behind Logan, shifted his feet uncomfortably.

Emma Belding now stared at Petrovsky with a look of confusion. "Why do you keep asking me about my ring? What are you on about?"

The elegantly dressed Russian let his eyes pass over the four of them with a speculative look. Finally he raised one eyebrow and said, "I don't see how it can hurt to tell you now..."

Max and Logan's eyes met briefly. Neither one liked the idea of what his words implied.

"Greville's been in charge of that little operation. We had someone 'talk' to Grant in prison. Naturally we were very keen to get our money back. He told us all about the ring, Miss Belding," he finished with a note of warning in his voice.

Emma looked at him with a confused expression, then she suddenly laughed. It wasn't a pleasant laugh, but rather one of bittersweet memories and deeply ingrained regret.

"So like Grant," she finally got out, her voice uneven with suppressed emotion. She appeared to be on the verge of tears. "He played you to the end."

"What are you talking about?" Greville asked her coldly, his veneer of impeccable self-control beginning to slip a little.

Emma composed herself enough to get out, "It was just a cheap ring my father bought me before he went away. Fake stone, fake gold, fake everything – just like everything else in my life," she added bitterly. "Grant and I used to joke about it. He'd read some whodunit where the clue was hidden in the wife's ring. He was always reading stupid mystery books and thrillers. Pity he never tried a romance novel," she quavered, trying to make it sound like a joke.

Greville stepped forward and grabbed her arm with his left hand, shaking it hard. "What about the ring?"

"Like I said – he played you right to the end. The ring meant nothing," Emma told him flatly to his face, and there was something in her eyes that made it almost impossible to doubt her.

Greville fell back from her, his expression difficult to read.

"You feeling a little guilty about killing those girls now, Greville?" Logan suggested with a hint of disgust.

Max looked at his shoes - brown, polished snakeskin. Her eyes then went to his fingers - he may have worn a ring on his right hand, but if he did, he hadn't swapped it to his left.

"Enough time wasting," Greville snapped to Petrovsky. "If we want the Hacketts we need to get the girls."

"Looks like you made a mistake, Greville," Logan continued. "You killed your source before verifying the intel was correct. Kinda inconvenient for you."

"He killed Grant?" Emma asked with wide eyes.

"Well, probably not him_ personally_. I doubt if he or Petrovsky would go so far as to visit a prison," Logan told her.

"Yeah, it'd be too much like seeing their own future," Max added coldly.

"Shut up the both of you," Greville snapped.

"Why don't you just accept the fact that Grant was the only one who knew what happened to the money – _and he's dead_," Logan insisted emphatically.

"Because I..._we," _he quickly amended, "aren't about to give up that four million."

Max looked about her. Oleg looked as jittery as ever, but the other four holding guns on them looked particularly calm, almost bored. She didn't like the look – it told her they'd been in this situation too many times before.

Max felt frustration building deep within her – the frustration that comes with the responsibility of having others to think about. Zack had told her she was too reckless. Well, he was right. Left to herself she would have taken them all on, trusting her incredible speed and reflexes to outrun, out-think, and out-manoeuvre any of Petrovsky's goons who stood in her way. But instead she had three others to consider.

Perhaps this was the source of her frustration, she mused darkly. Her eyes went to Logan. She knew he must have been feeling like crap– he certainly looked like he was- but he was willing to put his life on the line time and time again for people he didn't even know. Max thought she'd willingly put her life on the line for the girls, her friends...Logan. But people like Martin? Emma Belding? What claim did they have over her? Why couldn't she just have dumped them when she'd wanted to and got Logan and herself the hell outta there when they'd had the chance? _Yeah, what chance, Max_? she reminded herself sardonically. Before they'd been driven to the warehouse...before Greville had showed up...before Logan looked like he was about to spill his breakfast onto the roadway?

She looked across at Petrovsky, who was studying Emma Belding's face intently. "Let her go," he remarked calmly to Greville. His eyes swung suddenly to Logan. "He could be right, Greville. Perhaps we've burnt all our bridges," he murmured thoughtfully.

Greville let go of Emma, but said at once, "We can still get the children...make the Hackett's talk. I don't believe for a moment they know nothing. I don't believe _she_ knows nothing," he added, trying hard to make it sound as though he believed his own words.

Now Greville looked at Logan. "He knows where the girls are," he told Petrovsky softly, his eyes gleaming nastily above his swollen jaw. "Cover them!" he suddenly snapped, without removing his gaze.

Within seconds, the five men who'd been covering them with their weapons from a distance all leapt forward, as if in a rehearsed movement. Max looked around to find each man holding a rifle within inches of the heads of Emma, Logan, Martin and herself. The fifth man had no favourite – apparently he was prepared to shoot anyone. _That was big of him_.

"Vladimir. You have your knife?" Greville asked the fifth man casually. When he received a slight nod, he looked at Logan. "I want you to tell me where the girls are."

"What makes you think I know?" Logan asked him evenly.

"Don't waste my time, Mr. Cale," Greville snapped.

"You're loosing your cool. Maybe you know I'm right and all this is a waste of time," Logan told him, leaning back in a relaxed pose that hid the unease he actually felt.

"Well, it's _my_ _time_. If I want to waste it, that's my prerogative, so humour me_...where are the girls?_" he finished in a menacing manner, looming over Logan like the local, schoolyard bully.

Max forced herself to relax. She knew she had to play the game, but she felt she already had a few scores to settle with Greville. _I'm counting_, she warned him silently.

Logan looked unconcerned. He gave a small shrug. "I don't know."

"Vladimir. The knife!" called Greville without taking his eyes from Logan's face. Logan met his gaze with a bland one of his own. _Damn, I know what's coming_, he fumed inwardly.

"The girl..."

Logan held his breath.

"_Max."_

Something, somewhere inside his body did something strange, but he managed to breathe out slowly as he watched Vladimir walk behind Max, holding the long, silver knife in his hand with an almost reverential regard. In a quick movement he suddenly brought his hands in front of her face and held the knife in front of Max's slender, neck. She didn't move. She didn't look at Logan. She looked vaguely bored.

Greville kept his eyes on Logan's face while he made a small signal with his left hand.

In a heartbeat, the razor-sharp edge of the knife was pressed against the smoothness of her dark, honey-coloured skin.

Logan watched, fascinated as a tiny bead of blood trickled below the blade.

He swallowed resolutely. "I don't know where they are." He hoped his voice sounded firm...unconcerned. _Heaven knows his heart was anything but that._

Max was looking at him now, and he almost couldn't manage to meet her gaze.

"_The girls_," Greville insisted, while Petrovsky looked on with the ghoulish delight of one attending a hanging.

Vladimir pressed firmer on the blade and this time Logan saw the knife cut in to her beautiful neck, the transgenic blood that had almost healed him welling up behind the blade then spilling down her silky smooth skin, all the while her eyes looking at him appealingly...

"Tell us now," the voice insisted again, and Logan stared back at Max to see her looking at him with a worried expression, regardless of the sharp blade now held tightly to her throat and several small rivulets of blood beginning to appear.

"_Logan,"_ she mouthed silently at him while all eyes were concentrated on him.

"I'll tell you," he whispered, hands tightly gripping the wheels of his chair.

A hushed silence seemed to descend over the warehouse floor.

Logan didn't look up. He wondered bleakly if this was how Martin had felt.

"Well?" Petrovsky prompted him. He looked a little disappointed that the spectacle had finished so quickly.

"_The address?"_ Greville added with an eagerness for the final kill.

Logan swallowed once more. He struggled to get the words out.

He sensed rather than saw the blade returning to Max's neck.

"They're at an Asian grocery store...not far from here." In a dull voice, that didn't even sound like his own, he gave them the address.

"How can we be sure he's telling the truth?" Petrovsky queried the other.

Greville looked at Logan. He smiled. "If he's not telling the truth, I'll put a bullet in her...and I'll keep putting one in her until we have them."

Logan looked up at him. His usually guarded expression slipped and, for a short moment, he looked at Greville with something like hate before he looked away again.

"Take them back to the cooler," Greville told the guards. Suddenly he reached down and put a hand on the wheel of Logan's chair to prevent him spinning around.

Logan didn't look up this time.

"We'll make sure you don't miss the fun and games when the girls are brought back here," Greville told him in the manner of one promising a special treat.

A slight narrowing of his eyes was the only indication Logan gave that he'd even heard his words. As soon as Greville let go he pushed on angrily to where Martin and Emma were already being shepherded through the door.

Max followed him, a sneer on her full lips as she walked past Petrovsky's lieutenant.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once they were all back in the cooler, the door slammed shut behind them with an ominous sense of finality.

No one spoke.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Petrovsky wasted no time in despatching his men.

The black car sped into the darkness of the dimly lit Seattle streets.

The sun that had shone so brightly earlier had sunk below the earth, leaving a blood-red stain on the horizon.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A dreadful pall shrouded all those in the cool room as the fate of the girls occupied each of their thoughts.

Martin had returned to his slumped position against the wall. Emma leaned against the wall opposite – perhaps her thoughts more on the fate of Seth than the Hackett girls.

Max paced restlessly. Being cooped up in a room never suited her. The desire to kick some ass was flowing unrestrained through her veins.

Logan studied the back of his hands. He knew it was too early to expect the return of Petrovsky's men, but he looked up several times as he imagined the sound of a revving engine.

Max had tried to talk to him earlier but all he'd said was, "_Don't," _swinging his chair away quickly.

He didn't want her sympathy, her excuses. The blame must rest firmly with him. It had been his plan and the responsibility for it must rest solely on his shoulders.

Max paused in her pacing for a moment, listening intently. Her lack of movement attracted Logan's attention and he looked towards the door as well.

Martin and Emma didn't move. Both now sat slumped against different parts of the wall, in varying attitudes of dejection.

When no one entered, Max looked across at Logan, who had pushed himself to the opposite side of the room - away from her, away from Emma and Martin. It was as if he'd found the equivalent position to the one he used at home. It made her think of the times she'd caught him staring moodily out his huge picture windows, completely absorbed in his own world of pain or regret or any number of other emotions that he kept locked away far too deep to share with her.

He didn't meet her gaze, instead returning to the study of his hands. He had amazing hands, she thought inconsequentially, doubting very much if he knew it. He'd been nothing other than surprised and uncomfortable at Charlie's offer to sketch them.

Max watched him for some moments, feeling indecisive - wondering why it was only Logan who affected her this way.

Making up her mind, she strode over to him.

"You had no choice," she said, standing in front of him, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"That supposed to make it easier?" he retorted, looking up at her with an expression that said 'it clearly didn't'.

"Guess not," she admitted tightly, returning his gaze. Unexpectedly, her eyes softened. "Responsibility's a bitch," she added with a sincerity he rarely heard.

It shook him a little – he'd become so used to his own self-imposed isolation in dealing with problems.

When he didn't reply, Max looked across at Martin and Emma. "Hardly the touching reunion," she murmured to Logan as her eyes swept over them.

Logan looked across at them briefly. "She's probably worried about Seth."

"That reminds me - Emma said Seth remembered the guy he saw with the body at South Market having shiny shoes and a gold ring. I was wondering..."

She broke off abruptly as the door unexpectedly swung open and Oleg came in with a gratuitous smile plastered on his face.

"They want you," he informed them as he waved the gun about the room with a jerky, nervous manner. His eyes darted from one to the other as if he couldn't concentrate on any one thing for more than a few seconds.

Without a word, Logan headed toward the doorway. Max ushered Emma and Martin to go in front of her, then, forcing herself, she gave Oleg a small smile before she left the room and entered the main warehouse once more.

Petrovsky stood there with Greville by his side. The latter was talking on his cell. Three of their ubiquitous, black-suited goons held guns on them, along with the twitchy Oleg.

The odds were so much better now, thought Max.

It was tempting...but could she risk people, _someone_, getting hurt?

"I just had a call from my men," Petrovsky greeted them with great bonhomie. "They are on there way back here with the girls. That's good news for you, my dear," he added to Max.

"You're so considerate," she told him with a hint of sarcasm. "Is there a bathroom around here somewhere? I gotta pee," she enunciated clearly.

The older man's smile slipped a trifle at the coarseness of her speech. "Oleg," he snapped. "Show the young 'lady' to the bathroom."

Max gave Oleg one of her wide smiles. "Which way?" she positively purred in a voice low enough that only he could hear.

Logan watched her go, careful to keep his suspicions to himself. He now wished he'd talked to her, considered options when he had the chance, instead of brooding over events he had no control over.

_Damn._

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"Wow, it's so dark back here," Max remarked ingenuously to the young Russian. "Just where are you taking me, anyway," she asked with raised brows, a provocative smile on her face.

"The bathroom is down this hallway," Oleg replied, scarcely able to take his eyes off her shapely behind as he followed her, the gun in his hand all but forgotten.

Finally Max stopped at a door with a faint 'W' stencilled on it. She turned to face him with a 'come hither' smile. "Wanna join me?"

The young Russian didn't stop to ponder the strangeness of her request or the unusual timing or even the far more obvious notion that perhaps she was playing him. Drugs have a way of addling the brain when consumed in large amounts over the course of a few years.

In his excitement, Oleg grunted something that she took for a 'yes' as he motioned for her to enter the squalid bathroom first. He never noticed the cold, stale air, or the tiled walls, that had once been a pristine white, that were now a fashionable shade of dull, 'post-Pulse' grey.

Even more unfortunate for Oleg, he didn't notice the subtle change to Max's smile.

Max took him with ridiculous ease. A swinging kick to remove the gun from already slack fingers, and a fist following through in classic style to his jaw. His head jerked back and hit the wall with the type of thud that told her it would be quite some time before he got up again.

Max quickly dragged him away from the door and hid him in one of the cubicles as a precaution in case anyone came searching. Her next move was to hastily check through his pockets. She looked at him with a hint of disappointment – she had found no cell phone on him.

Her next action was to tuck the gun he'd held so unskilfully in his hand into the band of her black pants. Max was just checking the mirror to be sure that the gun was well hidden beneath her jacket when the unmistakeable sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the warehouse with startling intensity.

Max reacted immediately.

In a smooth movement she was out the door and back to the warehouse area where the others were being held. Instead of running out immediately, she used a stack of wooden pallets for protection and peered around it.

_Had he gone too far...he'd been so worried about the kids...so unforgiving with himself...had he lost all sense of judgement...pushed Petrovsky too far...baited Greville once too many?_

There was a figure lying on the ground. Greville stood over him – his gun still smoking.

"Logan," she murmured.

She hadn't realized just how worried she'd been until she saw conclusively that the figure wasn't him.

Double-checking that the gun was still well hidden beneath her jacket, she strolled over to where the others were grouped in a shocked tableau.

"So, there is no honour among thieves after all," she said quietly as she headed towards them.

"Stand still," Greville told her sharply. "Where's Oleg?"

"Can you believe that jerk wanted me to wait while _he_ peed! I told him you gotta be kidding, an' I swung on back here by myself. You got a problem with that?" she finished calmly. "Looks to me like you've got a bigger problem in front of you."

She went to stand next to Logan who was closest to the body, but Greville waved her back imperatively. "Stay where you are," he snapped.

Max, much to her dissatisfaction, found herself next to Martin instead, who was gazing at the body of Petrovsky with morbid fascination. It wasn't a pretty sight – but then violent death rarely is.

"You two have a falling out?" Max asked Greville affably.

Logan spoke up, turning his head a little in her direction. "It looks like Greville, here, was never taught to share."

"That was bad luck for Petrovsky," Max pointed out. She wasn't sure why, but she was relieved to hear Logan's voice sounding strong and firm with its usual note of irony. Perhaps it was good to know she wasn't alone in this mess that was becoming uglier by the minute. Perhaps it was good to know he wasn't spacing – that he still had his wits about him.

"I guess he had to do the deed before the Russian's bodyguards got back with the girls," Logan remarked pensively, swinging around as his gaze left that of the corpse to rest on Greville's coldly composed features.

"Yeah, he looks reeel cut up about it, too," agreed Max.

"Shut up you two," ground out Greville. "Oleg!"

"Is this where we say 'All hail the Tsar'?" frowned Max at Logan as if she were genuinely concerned about not following so fine a point of protocol.

"Oleg!"

Logan considered the point. "I don't think so. I think there's usually some kind of cere..."

"Shut up!" shouted Greville this time, bringing his gun to bear on Emma Belding, who had stood rooted to the spot after Petrovsky's body had hit the ground. She looked at the gun with wide eyes. "Is that what you did to Seth?" she whispered hoarsely. "Did you kill him too?" she unexpectedly shrieked at him, moving forward as if she wanted to strike him, regardless of the weapon he held in his hand.

Logan, who was closest, suddenly pushed himself in front of her, forcing her to stop abruptly. She stared over him at Greville, her chest rising and falling in quick, agitated breaths.

"You can't shoot her. You _need_ her," Logan told the other man calmly.

Greville switched his gaze to Logan. His voice held a note of regret. "I told Petrovsky you were trouble, but it's not too late to remedy the problem."

"I hate to interrupt all this, but hadn't you better cover up the body before the girls arrive?" Max asked Greville loudly, forcing him to turn his attention to more pressing matters.

Greville looked at her as if he was strongly tempted to turn his gun on her as well, but instead, his eyes still on her face, he barked out, "Vladimir, cover the body."

The sound of a car's engine outside the sliding doors made them all look up.

Greville had three of his henchman grouped about them as they all waited in various stages of concern. Again she tried to step closer to Logan, but Greville motioned her away.

"I don't think so," Greville told her silkily. "I prefer you right where you are. Why don't you see if you can bolster up poor Martin? He looks like he needs it. Popov, the door."

Logan cast a quick glance at Max before spinning his chair back to face the doorway. His hands felt slick on the metal.

All eyes were now fastened on the doors as Popov slowly slid them back.

Max took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip the gun out of her pants and slip it into Martin's coat pocket.

She sensed his sudden tensing and quickly squeezed his arm hard as a warning. "If anything happens, get this gun to Logan," she whispered under her breath. Martin had the sense not to turn around, but almost immediately, small beads of perspiration began to break out on his forehead.

The doors were open now, and the large black car drove into the warehouse.

Logan strained anxiously to see inside the car. He couldn't see the girls, but he clearly saw Petrovsky's men at the wheel. He didn't think he'd ever felt so full of loathing for himself.

He watched numbly as Petrovsky's four men got out of the car. Well, he assumed they were Petrovsky's. Who knew how deep the defection had gone.

"We have the girls," one of them called across to Greville. "Where is Petrovsky?"

Uncannily, the man's eyes went to the wet drag mark that ended behind the wooden pallets. Logan saw a look of suspicion in his eyes. The eyes changed to show a startling shock of pain as the bullet slammed into his left shoulder. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

At that moment, it seemed to Logan as if the world suddenly exploded. The deafening sound of gunfire erupted like fireworks on the fourth of July all over the warehouse.

Max dived at the closest gunman, while Emma ran terrified to cower behind the pallets.

Logan had only one thought in mind – to get to the girls. With that intent he pushed hard to head towards them as quickly as possible, only to turn around in his seat with fury as he felt a hand on the top of the chair back holding him back. Martin was cowering behind him, but he thrust the gun into Logan's hands.

"Take cover," yelled Logan to him above the noise, checking at the same time that the gun was fully loaded.

Taking a quick glance he saw Max throw a black-suited guy over her shoulder. Without further pause he tossed the gun in his lap and hurriedly continued the short distance to the car.

He headed around the side of the car closest to the warehouse doors and furthest from the fighting, but Logan didn't even have a chance to glance in the windows before he saw Greville rushing towards the car. Logan pushed toward the front of the car, using the front side panel for cover.

"Greville," he called loudly above the increasingly sporadic din of gunfire.

Greville looked up, but showed no inclination to stop, only heading on purposefully toward the driver's door of the car.

"Greville," Logan called again, this time showing the gun he held in his hand clearly to the other man.

Logan read the expression of intent clearly in the man's eyes. He had no intention of giving up the girls - no intention of losing that four million.

Both guns spurted a deadly emissary at the same time.

Greville's bullet missed completely, flying harmlessly past Logan to imbed itself in the wall. Logan's bullet found it's mark, but regardless of the fact that it passed through the top fleshy part of his arm, Greville charged forward with the fury of one who sees his cleverly thought out plan coming to nought.

Before Logan had another chance to fire, Greville launched himself across the hood of the car, both arms, cast-encased one included, outstretched with the desire to choke the life out of the person he was happiest to blame for his own failures.

Logan had a brief impression of Greville's furious face sliding towards him, when suddenly a black figure landed cat-like on the car and placed both her hands on the back of Greville's jacket to stop him. Max hauled him up until he was standing with her on the hood of the car. In one swift move the gun that he was trying to remove from his jacket pocket was wrenched from his hand and tossed away.

Logan looked up at her, only to jump as another gunshot erupted very close to him. He raised his own gun once more and prepared to defend Max if need be.

Only Max's cool presence of mind stopped her from hitting the ground as Greville's body was wrenched from her grasp with the force of the bullet that pierced him straight through the heart.

She looked down with disgust at the crumpled pile of flesh, bones and clothing that had once had the bad taste to call itself a man.

Not another sound erupted. She looked down at Logan to see if he was as surprised as she was by this sudden turn of events but he just put his head down on his arms where they rested on the hood of the car.

Max quickly jumped down from the car to stand beside him.

"You have a habit of turning up at opportune moments," Logan heard Max say. Quickly lifting his head he saw a man walking towards them, his gun still drawn.

It was the FBI agent Max had knocked out in the alley alongside the department store a few days previously.

"Put your guns down. This is the police. We have this area surrounded."

The loud speaker boomed with authority as the two, slightly beat-up unmarked police cars headed up to the warehouse doors.

Logan and Max looked around to see the few combatants who were still standing quickly toss down their weapons. It appeared as though the demise of both Petrovsky and Greville had dimmed their ardour.

Logan wasted no time in heading back to the passenger door of the car. With a wildly thumping heart he opened it and peered into the dark interior.

Two small forms lay deathly still, squeezed below the two seats of the car. Genevieve's body was on top of her sister, shielding her protectively.

"Genevieve, Monique," he called intently.

When they didn't respond he said, "Hey, it's Logan. It's safe now."

Very slowly, Genevieve lifted a wary head. "Is it all over?" she asked in a small voice.

Logan grinned back at her. "It's all over."

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Matt Sung, his arm still in a sling, was full of apologies for his late arrival.

"I'm sorry Logan. It took me longer than I expected to organize backup. By the time we got to the grocery store, Petrovsky's men had already left with the girls."

"Lu and his family?" queried Logan intently.

"Unharmed," Matt assured him. "Tied up, but unharmed."

"It was a close call," Logan murmured, mentally berating himself. He felt cold and more than just sick at the thought of what might have happened to the girls if Matt had gotten there any later or if Petrovsky and Greville had stayed allies, or if Jaeger, the FBI Agent hadn't turned up at that point to check out a lead, or if...a hundred other scenarios.

They were grouped about Logan's Aztek: Matt Sung, Jaeger, the FBI Agent, Logan and Max.

The girls had been placed back in the warmth of the car they had been brought in and driven to the street outside the warehouse. One of Matt Sung's men, for the time being, protected them.

They had been incredibly excited when Jaeger announced to them that their parents were in his care, safe and well.

Once the kids had been driven outside, Max and Logan had looked at him in amazement. "You knew where the kids' parents were all this time?" Logan asked, looking at the stylishly attired agent with an expression of incredulity.

Jaeger had smiled easily at them. "Not entirely... no, but at the time it seemed, well, at least until today, that the girls were safer with you. We've had the problem of a leak in the department," he explained with a serious note of regret. "Once we checked you out Mr. Cale, we had no reason to believe that you had anything but the best interests of the kids at heart."

"You could have saved those kids a lotta heartache if you'd let them in on your secret earlier," Max told him, not entirely happy with his explanation.

She looked about her. The warehouse was strangely quiet after the noise of the gun battle and the hurried work of the police and ambulance crews to minister to those who were hurt.

Martin and Emma sat quietly on a couple of chairs someone had found, both waiting to give their statements. Even as she watched, she saw Martin hesitantly put his arm around the girl's shoulder. Emma appeared to tense for the merest moment, then Max could see her relax into his hold. Perhaps Martin thought he was doing something right for a change, she mused with bitter humour.

She wondered how the girls were - how this would affect them. She felt a sudden surge of desire to see them safely back in the arms of their parents – away from the dramas of the Petrovskys and the Grevilles and the ugly life of Seattle's underworld. They needed a new start...somewhere fresh.

Max cast a quick glance in Logan's direction. Her frown deepened as she watched him.

He looked up at her. "What is it?"

"I'm just gonna check on the kids. See how they're doin'," she told him casually.

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"Max, Max, we're gonna see our mommy and daddy," Genevieve greeted her excitedly when she opened the door of the car. In her hand Max held Monique's doll.

"Hey, I found someone who needed a cuddle," she smiled at the younger child.

"My bay-beeee," Monique screamed with delight, reaching out her arms and taking the doll in a tight cuddle.

"Max. _Max_!" She turned to see Matt Sung running towards her.

"You'd better come here," he told her, plainly worried.

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"Well, I thought you were gonna sleep the day away," a voice said with gentle humour as Logan opened first one eye, then both, only to squint as the brightness stung.

"Max?" he asked with surprise, thinking to himself, _This is all wrong...she shouldn't be in my bedroom._

"You feelin' any better?" she asked, walking over to stand by the side of his bed where he could clearly see her.

Logan went to ask her, 'Better than what?' when he suddenly realized that his chest was bare and she was standing there, smiling down at him. He felt the quick flush of heat to his face.

At that, Max looked dismayed. "You don't have a fever again, do you?" she asked quickly.

Logan could only shake his head with confusion. "I feel like I'm missing something here," he admitted tentatively.

Max looked at him for a moment, the merest hint of a smile on her face, which made Logan feel all the more uncomfortable. He knew he'd had some wild dreams – well he'd assumed they were dreams.

"Mind if I take a seat?" she asked, motioning towards the bed.

"Sure," Logan said trying to sound relaxed. He wanted to sit up, but he felt he needed at least a T-shirt on before he did that. Instead, he settled for slipping his glasses on, which were in their usual place, on the nightstand beside the bed. The thought gave him pause. He couldn't remember putting them there. He couldn't remember anything about the previous night.

"So, where were we?" smiled Max.

"We were about to tell me why I don't remember..." he tried to think what it was he didn't remember, but even_ that_ he wasn't sure of so he left it at that.

"Probably the medication or the fever," Max shrugged. "You were pretty zonked there for a while."

Logan frowned. He didn't like the sound of this at all. "Zonked?" he queried doubtfully.

Max just looked at him. "You really don't remember any of it, do you? Petrovsky, Greville, being held in the warehouse...?"

Logan felt like, somewhere in his mind, the pieces of a fragmented puzzle were beginning to slot together, but with that came the remembrance of a nameless, illusive fear that had troubled him as he slept. His face, which a moment ago had been tinged with pink, suddenly went as white as the pillows he lay on.

"Max. The girls," he said intently, struggling up on his elbows regardless of his naked state.

"All cool. They're safe with the FBI man. He has Emma too. Your plan worked. You got them all out...the girls...Martin...Emma."

Logan lay back again at her words, feeling weak with relief. "Thank God!" he murmured with feeling, closing his eyes for a moment. It was tempting to let himself slide back into a truly restful sleep, now that he knew the truth.

"Well, it's about time you woke up," Bling's voice penetrated his thoughts. "Here, lift you arm so I can check your blood pressure. Then we'll check your temperature."

Another thought occurred to Logan as he opened his eyes to watch Bling. "How did I get here? What happened?" He looked from one to the other.

"You don't remember passing out?" Max asked him bluntly.

Logan frowned in an effort to make his mind more pliable.

"Well, your temperature's perfect again," Bling told him, checking the digital readout. "I'd better call Dr. Forrest and let him know."

Realization began to flood back to Logan. The infection...the knees...the fever. With a sudden grimace, he remembered clearly how awful he'd felt for most of the evening's events – whatever they were.

"I remember talking to Matt and the FBI Agent..."

"Jaeger," put in Max helpfully.

"... and the next moment I was staring at his shoes and it was like..." he searched for the words he wanted with a faraway look, "...I was being drawn down to them...like... some kinda magnet or something." He stopped abruptly, a little embarrassed by the imagery he was describing. "It felt kinda weird," he admitted self-consciously, returning to the safety of plainer speech..

"I've been there," Max told him seriously, looking into his expressive eyes behind the steel-framed glasses.

Logan held her gaze for the briefest of moments, only to look away suddenly when Bling, now off the phone, said, "So Max called _me_, and I called Dr. _Forrest_."

"As it turned out they were kinda run off their feet at Metro Medical so your doctor told us to bring you home. Seems they had a few gunshot victims to contend with," she added dryly.

"Which Max did," Bling informed him. "Saved your bacon from a hospital stay. You were lucky..."

"Your doctor had some super-duper kick-ass antibiotic to try out on you."

"Did the trick in no time," Bling added.

"Now all you gotta do is rest," Max told him.

"For at least a day," Bling added warningly.

"What are you two...Tweedledee and Tweedledum?" Logan asked irritably, throwing them a dark look. The thought crossed his mind that a shower would go down well, but he still hadn't ascertained how far his nakedness went and he didn't want to simply blurt out the question to Bling with Max there.

In the end he said, "You got a T-shirt I could put on, Bling?"

"I'll get you a fresh one," his trainer said at once, disappearing into his dressing room.

"It's Monday. You need to be going to work," Logan told Max as the next realization hit him. He was finding it increasingly annoying only remembering the last twenty-four hours in vague snippets.

"It's all good. I got OC to cover for me...said I'd be in a bit late." Max stood up and walked across to the window. Now that he was awake she felt a little awkward in having been in his room when he woke up. She felt some explaining was necessary. "I was just in here because Bling needed someone to cover for him for a half hour while he went out and bought some things," she explained casually, this time feeling _herself_ redden the tiniest bit. She wasn't sure she wanted to tell him that she'd stayed because she had been worried about him, that she'd almost worn a hole in the floor in front of the windows in his living room with her pacing

Logan merely nodded, then asked, "What about Seth?" with renewed intensity, frowning as he thought back to Emma's concern for her brother.

"I was just about to tell you that," said Bling, tossing Logan a T-shirt as he came back into the room. "Detective Sung just called. They found him locked in the basement of your safe house. He had a bump on the head, but was otherwise okay. You got your boxers on by the way," he added, accurately reading Logan's hesitation in sitting up.

Logan threw him an annoyed look, which Bling blithely ignored, then put his hands on the bed either side of himself to sit up. Once his head reached a certain angle, the bed and everything in the room seemed to waver alarmingly, and in a flash of insight he reconstructed perfectly the awful moments before the lights had gone out the night before.

The intense sensation of feeling like he was burning up, coupled with uncontrollable trembling...Matt Sung's concerned face...Matt's voice calling him from a long way away...the nausea...Jaeger's shoes...expensive, black, highly polished...falling...endlessly...

"Whoa," said Logan suddenly, waiting for the vertigo to pass.

"_Whoa,"_ he said a second time, with more intensity as the meaning of what he'd just seen in his mind sank in.

"You okay?" asked Bling with concern, grabbing a few pillows to prop behind him and forcing him back onto them with a firm hand.

He didn't answer Bling.

He looked across at Max instead.

He couldn't see the sudden worry in her dark eyes. Somewhere in his mind he could see her whispering something to him about shoes and gold rings.

"What did Seth say about the guy who killed the body in the alley?" he asked her abruptly.

"Shiny shoes, gold ring," Max told him promptly. "Greville had those shiny brown, snakeskin shoes," she added quietly.

Logan just looked at her. She thought he looked as ill as he had the night before.

"Oh my God," he said quietly, and he'd never said a more fervent prayer in his life. "We got the wrong shoes."

TBC


	23. Regrets

Thanks so very much for all the encouraging reviews – they are always highly appreciated.

My apologies that this chapter took a while – life's been a bit busy lately.

My special thanks to Alaidh for taking the time to beta this for me – great job as always!

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CHAPTER 23

Logan stared at his computer screen with an ever-growing resentment as it repeatedly refused to yield even the slightest scrap of information that would shed any light on the FBI agent Jaeger's possible location or plans.

The FBI profile he found on the agent told him little of interest other than the fact that Jaeger was a native of New York and that he'd been involved in the witness protection program for five years.

Backing up a little, Logan coasted the short distance to the printer with one push. His face was expressionless as he picked up the print of Jaeger's FBI security photo. The quality was good, revealing a man in his mid forties who he supposed you'd describe as reasonably handsome in a kind of forgettable way. Twice he'd seen the man shoot someone without pause..._in cold blood_..._whatever that means. _The expression didn't help him – it didn't tell him how far Jaeger was prepared to go for four million dollars.

Finally, he put the image down and pushed away from the desk with an attitude of disgust. He wheeled out of his study to verify that he had definitely _not_ heard the sound of Max returning. The door remained depressingly closed. No Max...no information...no girls...

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"_Oh my God...we got the wrong shoes."_

Max's brown eyes had stared at Logan for an instant with a look of frozen disbelief as every possible scenario that his words implied streamed through her mind like an endless movie trailer. _The girls...Genevieve, Monique..._

Her eyes focused once more on Logan lying against his pillows, but this time her thoughts were calculating, composed. "Are you sure?" She spoke coldly, almost unemotionally.

Logan barely heard her - he was still lost somewhere in the depths of self-recrimination.

"I should have seen all this before. What was I_ thinking?" _he chastised himself with a simmering, self-directed anger as he reached over to pick up the phone from his bedside table.

_Last night – not much_, thought Max, as she looked at him. "It's not like this is your fault, Logan" she said aloud, a little angry with his immediate assumption that the blame for this latest dilemma should be left at his door.

"You two wanna tell me what this is all about?" asked Bling quietly, looking from one to the other.

"I shoulda seen it,' Logan contradicted her flatly as he punched in the number and held the phone to his ear.

"Is this about the girls?" Bling put in tensely.

"I think we just found out that grandma is really the wolf," Max admitted tersely. She stood quickly as she spoke – one of the few signs of her agitation.

"Emma's not answering at the safe house," Logan told them both with a look of frustration before replacing the phone.

"Logan, are you sure you got this right? With everything that went down last night...you said yourself you hardly remember any of it," she finished curtly. _Maybe he was wrong...maybe the girls were still safe._

"_Black _– it had to be _black,_ shiny shoes - that's the most obvious way Seth's mind would work. I noticed his shoes myself the first time I saw Jaeger in the alley outside the department store – just before you hit him."

"_Black _– _that's it_?" Max queried a little sceptically.

Bling patiently kept his mouth shut as he tried to grasp what they were talking about – from their expressions he knew it couldn't good.

Logan's mind was furiously analysing information. "Maybe Jaeger himself was the leak..." he suggested with a frown.

"_Whatever_...but what do we do about it?" snapped Max. Not only was her mind racing, her body felt tense and tingly – coiled tight and ready for action. "If Jaeger has Emma, as well, where would he have them?" she pressed further.

Her hands hung by her side, but Bling was impressed by the sense of restrained power that seemed to emanate from her. This was a different Max from the one who waltzed into Logan's apartment at all hours of the day and night with a sassy smile and a smart comment.

"I don't have a crystal ball, Max," Logan snapped back as he pushed himself into a sitting position and prepared to slide across to his chair. Somehow all her questions only served to exaggerate his shortcomings.

Logan paused a moment as he remembered what happened the last time he'd sat up – thankfully this time the world stayed on an even keel.

He studied the texture of the sheet for a few seconds, then looked up at Max as she stood watching him from the window. He wondered how she could make him feel so guilty when her lips hadn't moved. On a more even note, he said, "Give me a moment to get dressed...maybe I'll come up with something."

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Max entwined all ten fingers around the mug of coffee she held to her mouth. The liquid was so hot it almost burnt her skin, but she ignored the pain. It seemed in some way a just retribution for the lack of insight that had placed the girls in such danger once more.

The irony of a startlingly blue sky wasn't lost on her – it would have been a perfect day for the children to enjoy their time together with their parents after the uncertainty and tension of the past week.

She hated not knowing where they were. She hated being wrong.

Max turned from the windows as she heard the faint squeak, then the soft gliding noise of rubber wheels on the polished wood floors.

"You come up with anything?" she asked at once, walking over to his study where he was already stabbing at the keyboard. He looked like he'd dressed hurriedly, not having even bothered to put shoes on over his thick, woolly socks.

"First off I thought I'd try giving Special Agent Thomas Jaeger a call," Logan murmured as his eyes scanned the screen for the number he wanted.

"You number FBI agents among your peeps?" Max asked him dryly.

"Never know when you might need a good FBI man," Logan told her a little distractedly as he searched for the name. "There it is," he added sharply.

"Let me do it," suggested Max quickly, picking up his phone before he had a chance. "Less suspicious," she added with her deceptively innocent tone. "Guys like talking to women and women like talking to women."

Logan paused a beat, looking up at her a little quizzically, then with a slight shrug, made a gesture of acquiescence with his hand.

Max threw him a small smile, then held her breath as she waited for the phone to be answered.

"I'd like to speak to Special Agent Thomas Jaeger," Max spoke in her most polite voice to the receptionist.

"I'm sorry, he's not available right now – could another agent be of service?"

Max made a face, but got out smoothly as if she'd misheard the other speaker, "Out of town? He must've forgotten. We were supposed to be having dinner together."

The voice at the other end changed subtly in tone. "Is this a personal call?" the woman asked with a warmer note.

"I can't believe he stood me up," Max fabricated, her brows raised for Logan's benefit.

"I'm sorry – this may be a personal call, but I'm not at liberty to divulge information about any of our agents over the phone." The voice was sympathetic, even apologetic, but firm.

"Maybe..." tried Max, but the line had gone conclusively dead.

Max hung up with a shrug, then turned back to Logan. "No go, there. What's Emma's apartment number? Maybe she went home."

Logan found her the number of the apartment she'd shared with Charlie, but there was no answer their either.

Max handed Logan his phone. "Looks to me like a little legwork may be in order," she suggested, grabbing her jacket from the back of the computer chair and shrugging it on.

Logan spelled out his concerns emphatically to her as he dumped the phone in his lap and followed her out of his study. "I have no way of knowing what we're up against here– we don't know how many people Jaeger has in the loop on this."

Max shrugged as she walked between his study and exercise room toward the door. "Not many I'd say. If he's been feeding either Petrovsky or Greville information, I'd say their deaths mean he's another one who doesn't like to share."

Logan called after her. "We don't have much to go on. Jaeger nearly has a full hand, bar Seth."

"You think he'll try and hook the brother?" Max asked intently, suddenly turning around. At least it was something to go on.

Logan shook his head. He was annoyed by his lack of confidence in his own assumptions. "I dunno...maybe," he answered quietly, not prepared to meet her gaze.

"I could swing by Seth's place, then the safe house," Max murmured, mentally working out her plan of attack.

"You should start with the warehouse where we picked the girls up in the first place," Logan told her thoughtfully.

Max nodded. "Okay," she said, turning to go.

"Max," Logan said quickly, halting her before she put a hand to the doorknob.

She turned around, almost a touch impatiently.

Logan looked up at her as if he were about to say something, but then another expression crossed his face and he closed his mouth instead.

Max raised her eyebrows another notch in mute enquiry.

"Just remember the wolf had big teeth," Logan told her quietly.

"As I recall the kid in red with the hood was still able to whip his ass," she grinned at him before heading towards the door with a backwards wave of her hand and not so much as a glance in his direction.

Logan turned back to his computer, remembering too late that in the version his mother read him, the woodsman had returned in time to chop off the wolf's head.

-----------------------------------------------------------

_So it was, some time later,_ that Bling came out from the exercise room in time to catch Logan's grunt of frustration as he'd wheeled out from his study, to find his front door still firmly closed.

"Max not back yet?" he asked redundantly, more as a stating of facts.

"Nope," Logan told him curtly, his eyes still fixed on the door.

Bling studied the man in front of him for a moment. "I take it you didn't come up with anything on Jaeger?"

"No." Logan exhaled slowly. "Man's been an FBI agent for twelve years." He swung around to look up at Bling, reeling off the few facts he had in a matter of fact tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. "Clean record...solid agent...no hint of scandal...not even a reprimand for a long lunch."

"Well, seems to me if we're gonna worry, we might as well occupy ourselves at the same time. Sittin' here willing the door to open won't achieve much," Bling pointed out bluntly. "Why don't you head on through to the table and we'll get your reps done."

Logan shook his head. The last thing he wanted right then was to be chained to any one place. "I still got some stuff to do, a few leads to check on," he told his trainer firmly, if a little vaguely, before heading back to his study.

Bling gave up and headed back to the kitchen, leaving Logan to stare futilely at his computer. His spacious apartment suddenly seemed a lot smaller - he felt stifled, constrained.

_Why hadn't Max at least called?_

Logan swung around and looked across at the floor-to-ceiling windows. He hardly noticed the blueness of the sky or the shafts of sunlight penetrating his sanctuary and falling on the couch.

What he really wanted to do was pace.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Max drove to the warehouse on Branson Street, where they'd initially found the kids, with no regard for any type of speed limit.

The only sign of life she saw down there were the ever-present squawking seagulls that were sunning themselves noisily down by the waterfront.

The warehouse itself was empty.

Max pressed her lips together with dissatisfaction. She'd been hoping...

A quick check through the warehouse revealed not a single clue. _Guess_ _they taught_ _you well_, she murmured as she stood where the car full of Russians had stopped four days ago.

With one last flick of her eyes around the area, she headed back to her motorcycle and proceeded to Seth's apartment.

--------------------------------------------------------------

There were quite a few people on the cracked sidewalk outside his apartment building – the warm sun was an alluring feature.

The sight of a woman walking along with two girls brought her up short for a moment as she tried to ignore the sudden, sickening thud somewhere deep within her. Manticore had taught her to focus on the task – recriminations were for the mentally weak, but her mind kept going back to the smile of childish pleasure on Monique's face when she'd held out her arms for her doll in the car the previous evening...just before Max had left her in the arms of a dirtbag who had greased at least two men, presumably to get his hands on the four million.

As the elevator jerked its way up, she stared with unseeing eyes at the graffiti covered walls.

"_Jaeger."_

She spat the word out with disgust for the man and disgust for herself. Her lips curled as she remembered Jaeger's supposed concern for Logan the night before. The fact that he'd stopped Logan from taking a header from his chair did nothing for the man's case – it only made her even more annoyed with herself that she'd walked away to check on the girls when she had.

The elevator finally stopped jerkily on Seth's floor. Max wrinkled her nose instinctively as the same stench she remembered from her previous visit assailed her.

The door to Seth's apartment was still closed. No one answered her quiet knock.

In a matter of seconds Max had the door open and had cautiously eased her way into the room.

She didn't jump when she heard the sound – apparently Seth's apartment was a veritable haven for all types of vermin. Her only disappointment was that she'd only found the four-legged variety.

Seth's apartment didn't appear to have been touched since she'd visited it with Logan.

That left the safe house as their last opportunity, and if there was nothing there to go on, then Logan was going to have to come up with something else.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Bling felt edgy.

Logan wasn't the only one looking up every time a sound was imagined at the door.

Not long after Max had left, another uneasy thought had crossed his mind. He wondered if Logan had considered this angle as well – the man didn't usually miss much. All the same, he decided to head downstairs and talk to building security personally.

The trainer had busied himself with everything he could possibly think of, but it didn't help to ease the tension as his thoughts drifted constantly to the uncertainty of the girls' situation.

_Those two sure have a way of gettin' under a person's skin, _he mused as he stood up and surveyed his efforts with a small smile of satisfaction. _Now that shoulda saved my job_. It had taken some time – gentle dabbing had been required rather than elbow grease, but he felt satisfied as he studied the rug closely. The Nutella stain was well and truly gone.

Bling glanced at his watch yet again before reaching down to pick up the paper towel and carpet stain remover. He was thankful that the readout gave him another task to occupy his hands and mind and made him wonder how Logan was doing.

Walking through to the kitchen he left the cleaner and paper towels on the counter and threw the used paper towels in the trash. There wasn't an exciting selection to be had for lunch, but he did the best with what there was. Once both sandwiches were made he grabbed a glass of water and the meds Dr. Forrest had prescribed and walked through to the study. He wasn't entirely surprised to find it empty. He walked through instead to the living room. His eyes fell immediately on the figure sitting by the window. Logan sat with a stillness that came with a deeply preoccupied mind.

Bling started to call out to Logan, "Time for your meds."

His expression changed to a rueful grin as Logan, without looking up, put his hand out in readiness to receive the pills before Bling had even had a chance to get the words out.

"So, you psychic or something?" Bling grinned.

"Nope, I can read a watch, that's all," Logan drawled back, permitting himself something that could have been construed as a smile.

"You gotta eat after you've taken them. I've made us both a sandwich."

Logan merely nodded as he swallowed the pills with a large gulp of water, this time letting his eyes focus on the brightness of the Seattle afternoon.

His apartment seemed overly quiet now without the constant hum of chatter and squabbles and giggles and snippets of inaccurately sung songs repeated over and over by Monique. He'd never considered his apartment too quiet before – normally he revelled in the solitude...embraced it. Now, however, the silence gave him a sense of incompleteness – like the time the power had gone out near the end of a tense basketball game and he'd been left in the stillness of the brown out wondering what the score was and feeling vaguely jealous that somewhere, in other parts of town, people were still sitting in their brightly lit apartments, electricity humming efficiently, while they held their breaths as the clock ticked down.

Logan forced himself to bring his mind back to a solution rather than useless regrets as he became aware of Bling waiting at his side for the glass.

Something in his trainer's manner made Logan look up at him.

"Max has been gone quite a while now with no word," Bling commented to him as he met his gaze, taking the glass in one of his strong hands.

"And?" queried Logan a little dangerously.

"If Jaeger got wind of her snooping, he'll know you're onto him. There's a good chance he's suspicious even if he hasn't come across Max."

"We don't have any reason to suspect he's caught Max," Logan announced with an air of finality, releasing his brakes with a snap and heading through to the kitchen. He didn't like Bling's line of reasoning – it far too accurately mirrored his own thoughts.

Logan had just put his sandwich on the dining room table when Bling came through. He looked at the gun Bling was expertly loading with an expressionless face.

"It _is_ one of the things you pay me for," Bling murmured, "An' I figure it pays to be cautious when dealing with someone like Jaeger."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Max stood at the door and listened intently...hopefully.

This time she didn't knock – instead she put her hand on the doorknob and tried the door. There was nothing stopping it – it quietly swung inward.

Max looked around the room with the beginnings of hope stirring inside her.

The room looked the same as it had when she had last seen Emma – except for the fact that the contents of Emma's bag was now strewn across the double bed as if somebody had gone through it looking for something.

Max walked over to it, carefully studying the contents before she moved anything – but there was no obvious clue as to whether this had been the work of Petrovsky when he'd grabbed Emma or whether it was the more recent work of Jaeger.

Of Seth, there was no sign.

Max's eyes suddenly narrowed as her senses honed in on an unwelcome sensation.

Without turning she knew that someone was watching her from the doorway.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan couldn't remember a time when a sandwich tasted so inedible. Convinced he was eating cardboard, he lifted up the top slice of bread to check out what was inside.

"Something wrong?" Bling asked mildly as he flicked an astute glance in Logan's direction.

"Nope," he answered shortly, regretting as soon as the word was out of his mouth that he'd sounded so ungrateful. He washed down the mouthful with some water and then stoically took another bite. He knew if Max were here she would have eaten her own lunch plus his as well.

"Been feelin' okay today?"

"I feel fine," Logan answered, not entirely untruthfully. He knew the present knot in his stomach was the result of worry rather than anything more sinister. "Looks like Hal found the right meds this time," he added, trying to sound more sociable. The thought crossed his mind that it would have solved a heap of problems if he'd been given the other meds in the first place. He couldn't help but wonder if he would have picked up on Jaeger yesterday if he hadn't had a jackhammer tearing into his skull the previous night.

"Great," Bling went to say, but the word died on his lips. He looked at Logan tensely. They'd both heard the sound outside his door.

"Wait here," he told Logan curtly with the tone of one who expects to be obeyed before picking up the gun.

Bling moved silently to the double, redwood doors, his gun held in front of him.

Someone was turning the doorknob.

Bling tightened his finger on the trigger ever so slightly as a man's foot appeared at the bottom of the door.

In the next instant the door flew open and Bling swung his gun in the direction of the next threat.

"Don't tell me - _you're the woodsman_," Max commented with raised brows to Bling as she walked past him coolly, unperturbed by his Rambo-like reception. Her eyes went immediately to Logan, who by this time had come through to the foyer.

"So, you didn't find the big, bad wolf, huh?" Logan commented, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"Well, he's _big_," Max pointed out, throwing a glance at Seth who was looking around wide-eyed at Logan's apartment.

"What's with the hundred and one questions downstairs - you got a new security guy?" Max asked Logan as she directed Seth further into the room.

Logan looked surprised. "Not that I know of...unless..." He looked toward Bling questioningly.

"I just wanted to make sure we didn't get any uninvited guests," the other man answered evenly.

"Good to know someone around here uses their head," Max congratulated him.

"Hey, Seth," Logan said to him in a friendly tone. Seth appeared to be overawed by the spaciousness and obvious wealth in Logan's apartment.

He looked about the apartment with interest as he walked through to Logan's study.

"You live here, Logan?" he asked in wonderment, looking carefully at the extravagant set- up in the study and then at the living room beyond.

"Yeah," Logan answered.

"With your family?"

Feeling a little self-conscious of his wealth in a time when so many had so little, Logan admitted, "No – just me."

Seth typically showed no reaction to the answer, which only served to make the sudden expression on his face even more noticeable as he almost pounced upon the image of Jaeger that Logan had copied. "That's him. The man in the alley," the boy called out in a scared tone, staring at the picture.

Max felt her last vestige of hope that somehow Logan had been wrong hit the deck like one of Sketchy's bike stunts.

Seth's gaze shifted from the picture to Logan. "Do you know where Emma is?" he asked intently.

Logan glanced towards Max, then admitted quietly, "No. We don't...sorry."

"You found her last time," Seth pointed out to him hopefully.

"We aim to find her again," Max told him abruptly.

Seth had his eyes fixed on Logan. "We'll do our best," he told the boy quietly. Wanting to talk to Max in private, he asked Seth, "Hungry?"

Seth nodded eagerly at that.

Picking up on his cue, Bling suggested, "Why don't you come through and I'll make you a sandwich?"

Seth looked warily at the gun in Bling's hand.

"I'll put this away," Bling smiled.

Seth looked at the gun once more, but this time the wariness was replaced by a spark of interest. "That loaded?"

"Come on through and I'll tell you about it," Bling told him genially as they headed to the kitchen.

"What happened?" Logan asked Max intently as soon as the other two were out of earshot. His eyes went to the bag he recognized as Emma's as he followed her through to the living room.

Max stood behind the couch and tipped the open bag upside down, letting the contents cascade onto the cushions.

"I checked out the warehouse – it was clean, not a thing. Next port of call was Seth's crib. That definitely _wasn't_ clean, but it didn't look like anyone had been there since we had. _This,"_ and she indicated the bag and its contents, "I found at the safe house."

"Where'd you find Seth?" Logan asked as he wheeled forward and quickly scanned Emma's things. Now that he knew her, he felt even more reluctant than he had the first time about rifling through her things.

"He turned up at the safe house. Apparently Matt had arranged for him to spend the night in the hospital. He made his way back there expecting to find Emma..." Max hesitated a moment, causing Logan to look up at her.

"I felt kinda sorry for him. Matt had told him it was all over," she said quietly, her eyes meeting his.

Logan quickly looked down at the couch. He wondered if Genevieve would ever trust him again. If there was one memory he had from last night, it was those very same words that he'd spoken to the child.

"You check through all this stuff?" he asked Max.

"Just a pile of clothes, underwear, socks, usual stuff...except for this," she added, holding up a piece of paper in her hand.

Logan looked up quickly, but it was hard to see what she was holding against the light coming in from the windows. "What is it?" he asked curiously, his green eyes narrowing thoughtfully behind the steel framed glasses.

"A ticket stub to a place called 'Old Seattle.' You heard of it?"

Logan frowned. "I thought that place was closed down," he murmured, taking one hand off his wheels to reach across to take the ticket Max was holding out to him.

"What the hell is it and why would it be the only personal item Emma would hold fast to?" Max asked curtly.

"It's a used ticket all right," Logan said, turning it over in his hand.

"You lookin' for an 'X marks the spot'?" Max asked with a touch of sarcasm.

Logan threw her a dark look. "Old Seattle was a tourist village that had the bad timing to open a few months before the Pulse hit. You know, one of those 'come and see how they lived in the1800s' type places, but I thought it had been boarded up for some time."

"Why would Emma have a ticket to a closed tourist attraction?" Max asked him impatiently. "This is whack!"

Logan shrugged. "Maybe Seth knows."

"Hey, Seth," Max called at once, heading out to the kitchen where Seth was seated at one of the counters.

The big man turned his head.

"Can you come in here? Logan wants to ask you a few things." She hoped it sounded more like a request rather than a command.

Seth looked at Bling as if for reassurance, then rose slowly from his stool and walked through to the living room. He stood silently by the couch in front of Logan, looking a little blank.

Max looked at Logan expectantly, wondering why he hadn't started asking Seth what he knew. Time was slipping away far too quickly for her liking.

Logan meanwhile was thinking back to Emma's words regarding Seth. He knew he had to put his questions carefully if he wanted a definitive answer.

"Why don't you sit down, Seth," Max suggested. She found it uncomfortable enough even from her height to be looking up at him.

The large, young man sat down in one of the armchairs, but his expression was one of apprehension.

"We just want to find Emma," Logan assured him. "We're hoping you can help us." Logan held up the ticket in his hand. "Have you seen this ticket before?" he asked gently.

Seth nodded his head. "It belongs to Emma."

"Has she shown this to you before?"

Once again, Seth nodded his head, very seriously.

Logan thought carefully for a moment, debating in which direction to turn with his questions. Finally he said, "Did Emma ever go to this place?"

"Yes," Seth agreed, nodding vigorously this time. He appeared to be pleased that he could answer in the affirmative.

"Do you know why Emma would keep this ticket, Seth? Was 'Old Seattle' an important place to her?"

Seth positively beamed this time. "Emma likes Old Seattle because that's where Grant asked her to marry him. He 'proposed' there," he stated slowly, as if it were a word he'd had to memorize.

Logan looked up at Max, who had gone back to stand by the windows. It was the only scrap of personal information that they had come across so far in regards to Emma Belding. The rest of her life was a closed book. Max recognized the faint glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"You think Emma really knows where the money is?" Max managed to put both a tinge of surprise and scepticism into her voice.

"What would you do if someone was threatening someone you cared about?"

Max was a little thrown, both by his words and the intensity behind the seemingly casual tone, but Logan appeared to be too absorbed in his own memories to notice her slight hesitation.

"I guess I'd tell them something...anything...t'get them to back off," Max said thoughtfully, then added with characteristic charm, "before I kicked their ass."

Logan leaned forward earnestly. "I don't think Emma's up to kicking ass, but I do think she'd do whatever she could to save the girls. Maybe Jaeger's threatening her with Seth's safety, as well. Under that sort of pressure..."

"Maybe she'd admit to knowing where the money was to buy herself some time...left the ticket there for us as a clue maybe?"

"This ticket is the only sentimental thing Emma kept," Logan told her, his voice full of meaning as he released his brakes with a sudden renewed energy and swung around. "If Jaeger saw it, it's just possible, since he's so caught up with finding that four million, that he'd be ready to jump to the conclusion that she kept the ticket for another reason," he added over his shoulder as he headed to his computer.

Seth remained where he was, apparently content to wait until his next instruction.

Max followed Logan through. She could feel a familiar tingle in her fingers and toes at the thought of some action as she studied Logan's computer screen with interest. Several links for Old Seattle came up.

"Not very original," she commented as she leaned over his shoulder, one hand on his desk.

Logan frowned a little with a slight sideways movement of his head.

"The name, I mean," Max answered him. "No wonder they went outta business."

"Well, we can probably blame the Pulse for a fair share of their financial troubles," Logan murmured as he called up a tourist site that still featured the embattled tourist park.

Max's expression said her opinion of Old Seattle was anything but favourable as she looked at the pictures on Logan's computer. "I'd blow the guy off too if this was where he chose to do the whole 'bended knee' dealio," she muttered.

The photos revealed a fairly simple construction of what was meant to have been a logging town in the early 1800s. The main road was realistically unmade and rutted with the wheels of the wagons and stagecoaches that jolted visitors around the site in the manner of the day. The buildings themselves were a fairly rustic, timber construction, some double storeyed, some single.

"Looks like the back blocks of Hollywood to me," Max said dismissively.

"I take it Westerns weren't on the Manticore curriculum," Logan remarked wryly, calling up another site.

Max shrugged. "Six shooters are hardly cutting-edge technology." Max leaned forward even more, until her mouth was next to Logan's ear. "You really think Emma'd bring Jaeger here?" she asked him quietly.

Logan didn't answer immediately.

"Unless there's something you're not telling me," added Max in a deceptively mild voice, stepping back a little so that she could see his expression.

This time Logan was quick to set her straight.

"Nope. Truth is I'm just clutching at straws," he admitted, "and not very good ones at that."

"We've got nothing else to go on," Max pointed out.

At that point, Logan's phone shrilly made its presence felt causing Seth, still in the living room, to look up with a startled face. Logan wasted no time in picking it up.

"Matt," Logan spoke quickly into the phone as he recognized the voice on the other end.

"Logan, we've got trouble," Matt said at once.

"Jaeger?" Logan rapped out the word.

The slight pause told its own story. "You know?" Matt's voice rose on the last word.

"A hunch," Logan told him. "Too many things didn't add up." He glanced briefly up at Max as he spoke.

"My source says the leak points to Jaeger. Logan, he must have been setting Petrovsky up all along – leaking him the information, letting him do the dirty work..."

"So that he could turn up at the end and grab the goods," Logan finished for him, "and we played right into his hands," he added bitterly.

"Logan...I'm sorry...the girls...if I'd known." Matt's words were abrupt, awkward, full or regret.

"Any lead on where Jaeger could be holed up?" Logan asked, reverting to his usual controlled tone of voice.

"The only thing I can come up with on him is that he'd booked a whole lot of surveillance and tracking equipment out."

"That must be how Petrovsky found Emma at the safe house," Logan realized out loud as another piece of the puzzle slotted into place. "He must've had a trace on my car."

Matt's voice dropped even lower. "Listen, I gotta go. The heat's on here – Jaeger must have some influential contacts. I've had my ass hauled over the coals for last night's affair but I've managed to keep your name out of it. No way are they gonna let me outta here before my report is on the desk, short of losing my job...I'll do what I can this end but I doubt if I'll be able to come up with a location on Jaeger."

Logan replaced his phone, aware of Max's intent scrutiny. "What do we do now?" she asked, the irritation beginning to show in her voice. "There's no knowing what that dirtbag could be doing."

Logan's mind was rapidly sorting through possible scenarios. He didn't like any of them.

"Should we 'take a walk back through time'?" Max asked dryly, echoing some of the banal slogans found on the Old Seattle website.

"Jaeger's obsessed about finding the money. If he saw that ticket stub, whether Emma's suggested the money could be there or not, and he saw me driving there, maybe it would be enough to start making him do his math."

"You think he'd be still tracking your car?" Max asked purposefully.

"I think he's the type to consider all options," Logan replied, still not sounding totally convinced. "First we need to check if there's a tracking device on my car."

"I'm on it," Bling said from the doorway where he'd been listening.

"It'd be easier if we knew what Emma had told him," Logan ground out with frustration. "This flying blind..." He looked up at Max. Her chocolate brown eyes reflected his fear for the girls.

"Why don't you call her?" a tentative voice spoke from the living room.

Logan and Max both turned quickly to look at Seth.

"Emma has a cell phone?" Logan asked, completely floored by this revelation. He'd found no evidence of her having owned one when he'd originally been trying to track her down.

Seth reeled off a string of numbers. "Emma's number," he told them clearly.

Logan looked at Max with any number of conflicting emotions crossing his face momentarily, then reached out for his phone.

He stopped at the touch of Max's hand on his own. "What are you gonna say to her, if by some stroke of amazing luck you even get her?"

Logan froze for the moment as the sense of her words sank in, his eyes distractedly resting on her hand that still held his.

"We gotta have a plan, Logan." Max's voice cut through his thoughts

"I need to feed Jaeger the idea that we know where the money is," Logan told her thoughtfully. "See if I can lure him into the open. What was that number again?" he called to Seth, but it was Max who repeated it.

Logan dialled slowly, his thoughts intent on how he would handle the conversation – if by some chance their luck held out and Emma actually picked up.

The phone rang and rang, and Logan had just turned to Max with a look that said 'I was crazy to think this would work' when unexpectedly, the ring cut out and he heard Emma's voice clearly on the line.

Logan, who'd been aware of Seth's heavy breathing behind him since he'd dialled the number, suddenly had a flash of inspiration. He quickly took the phone from his ear, pressed the button for 'speaker' and handed it to Seth. "Say hello," he mouthed to him quickly.

"Hello, Emma."

"Seth. Is that you?" Emma's voice sounded both relieved and concerned. "Are you okay?"

Seth looked across at Logan, then said, "Yes. I'm okay," as Logan nodded.

Logan meanwhile had grabbed a piece of paper and was furiously writing the words: _Logan wants me to go to Old Seattle Town with him. He didn't say why._

Seth repeated the words verbatim and even Max was impressed by his acting skills.

"Why does he want to take you there?" Emma's voice came back a little breathlessly.

This time, Logan simply mouthed, "Don't know."

"I'm not sure why, Emma," Seth spoke slowly into the phone. "Should I go with him?"

Logan and Max cringed a little as he deviated from the script, but both let out inaudible sighs of relief when Emma simply replied, "I don't mind."

"When are you coming home?" Seth asked, his voice tinged by sadness.

"Soon, Seth...as soon as I can," his sister replied slowly, then suddenly her phone cut out and she was gone.

The sudden silence in the apartment only emphasised the tension in the air as Seth wordlessly handed the phone back to Logan.

---------------------------------------------------------

Emma jumped a little as the phone was wrenched from her grasp.

Jaeger looked at her and smiled. "Funny how all roads seem to lead to Old Seattle Town," he told her with a pleasant smile.

TBC


	24. Showdown, Part 1

Thankyou all so much for your enthusiastic reviews – I really appreciate them very, very much!

A huge thanks to Alaidh for focussing all her efforts on betaing this chapter for me which is particularly long!

A/N: This is actually part one of a three part chapter. The next two parts are written and will be posted ASAP. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 24

The sun that had been shining with such fervour for most of the day was finally beginning to succumb to the bank of solid, grey clouds that were slowly but surely monopolising the greater part of the sky.

Logan let the muscles around his eyes relax as the glare was suddenly cut by more than half, vaguely wishing that it was something as simple as glare that was causing the tightening of muscles in his arms and back. He breathed deeply in a futile attempt to stem the tension he felt, twisting in the passenger seat as he did so to peer through the grimy, back windshield, looking past the bulk of Seth to the dirty window beyond. At times like this he wished he kept his car a little cleaner.

"She's out of sight," Bling said quietly, his own eyes darting to the Aztek's rear-view mirror. "But I saw her about five minutes ago...she's hangin' back."

Logan nodded. Thankful to think of anything rather than Genevieve and Monique at the mercy of a man like Jaeger, he let his mind wander to an image of Max on her motorcycle – the orange tinted glasses, dark hair whipped back from her face and streaming behind her, the lithe body crouched low over the handlebars. He could still remember the moment of exhilaration as he'd managed to shift gear – his own uncharacteristic whoop of unrestrained exultation echoed weirdly in his mind. Unconsciously he bit down hard on his bottom lip. _Not much to whoop about lately_, he thought moodily as his green eyes stared out the window.

Logan let his restless gaze wander desultorily to the vastness of the scenery before him. The suburbs of Seattle had been left behind some time ago, and they were now travelling through picturesque farmland that had somehow managed to escape the ruthless scarring that was usually an inevitable legacy of the Pulse. _Still the_ _stuff of postcards_, Logan mused as he noted that this part of the state looked little different to all intents and purposes than it had ten or so years ago. In the distance, the snow-capped peak of Mt Rainier reached majestically skyward. Logan could vaguely remember the advertisements Gray Line used to run – all day bus tours to Mt Rainier, including a lunchtime stop at the newly opened Old Seattle. Tourism had been at its peak, he remembered.

"You pick up anything new?" Bling ducked his head in the direction of the laptop sitting on Logan's lap.

Logan let out a grunt of frustration, his eyes now focused on the view through the front windshield. "Damned internet's still down."

Once again Bling's eyes went to the rear-view mirror, but this time they focussed inside the car. "How yah doin'?" he called to Seth.

Seth answered stoically, "I want to find Emma."

"Well, that's what we're hoping to do," Bling told him kindly.

"Emma doesn't know where the stolen money is," Seth added firmly, this time looking towards Logan.

Logan half-turned in his seat to look at the boy. "I know," he told him sincerely. With strained patience he pointed out yet again, "We're not looking for the money, Seth. We just want to find Emma and the two girls."

Seth studied Logan's profile for a long moment; finally he sat back with a vaguely relieved expression.

Logan raised his brows at Bling. He hoped they'd done the right thing by bringing Seth along, but the boy had looked hurt and there'd even been a wild hint of anger in his eyes when Logan had told him he'd have to wait at the apartment for them to return.

"I need to help Emma," the boy had announced, jumping to his feet from the couch to stand before Logan with a pugnacious attitude. "Old Seattle is a big place. Max will need help. _You_ can't help her, but I'm strong – I can fight." To illustrate his point he held up one of his huge hands and knotted it in a tight fist.

"Fists run a poor second against bullets," Max cut in dryly.

"You've been to Old Seattle?" Logan asked with quick interest, choosing to ignore the attempt at intimidation. At Seth's nod he asked, "With Emma?"

Again the young man nodded, but this time he volunteered some information. "Emma took me there ... after_ he_ died."

"You mean _Grant?"_ Max jumped in.

"I didn't like him," Seth mumbled guiltily. "He made Emma cry."

"Seth, did Emma take you _inside_ Old Seattle?"

"Yeah, but the man made us leave." Seth's eyes clouded over once more. Apparently the memory was both a happy and a sad one.

"But you did see inside?" Logan insisted.

Seth nodded, unaware of the exchanged glance between Logan and Max.

"He could be helpful," Logan suggested to Max, letting his fingers drum a tattoo on the wheel of his chair as his mind struggled to process even yet more information. "We don't know for sure what's inside. He could show us where Emma took him."

Max hesitated a moment. She felt unsure of Seth. His latest outburst had made her wonder how emotionally stable he was. Knowing that Logan was watching her, awaiting her decision, she eventually gave him an almost imperceptible upward movement of her shoulders as an answer.

"It'd be hard on him if he had to wait behind," Logan told her under his breath, wheeling closer to her, away from Seth.

"Maybe harder, but a heck of a lot safer," she answered, brown eyes briefly locking with green. All of a sudden he knew that it wasn't just Seth she was speaking of.

"Besides, who knows what he may take it into his head to do if we leave him to his own devices," Logan continued quickly, in a matter-of-fact manner, as he wondered why he'd felt so flushed - so conscious of himself - under that intense gaze.

Max looked up as Bling returned, announcing that he'd found a tracking device on Logan's car. She folded her arms, looking down at Logan as she leant against his desk. "So, how d'you wanna play this?" she asked with a touch of curt resignation.

"The bodywork took a bit of a beating yesterday," Bling commented wryly.

"Damn. I forgot about that," Logan said suddenly with dismay. He looked up at Max. "Is it...?"

"It's driveable. Got us home last night okay," she answered him quietly. She wasn't happy with the uneasy feeling that had crept up on her in the last half hour or so, making her throat feel tight and uncomfortable.

"The tracking device looks like a hi-tech gadget," Bling told Logan.

"Good. I wouldn't want Jaeger to lose me," Logan told him. As he spoke, he wheeled across to his other desk where his laptop sat.

Bling watched as Logan made sure the computer was properly charged. "If you're gonna be using that, why don't I drive?"

"Didn't know you were comin'," Logan told him coolly.

"Logan, I care about the girls too," Bling insisted quietly. "I _want_ to help."

Logan hesitated, quickly considering what Bling would be getting himself into. It was one thing to involve Bling in basic Eyes Only meets and other general things he did that required backup for the unexpected. Driving out to Old Seattle, however, could more likely be construed as sticking your head in the lion's mouth, and the last time he'd done that, he'd lost a bodyguard. Worse than that – he'd watched as the bullets ripped into Peter's body with deadly accuracy. Peter had been a close employee, but Bling's connection to Logan had become something deeper than that – they were friends. Did he even have the right to involve him in his plan to release the two girls?

"I would've thought the more the merrier," Bling added persuasively. "You don't have any intel to know what Max'll be up against out there."

"It's cool with me," Max put in quietly. _Even if he does nothing more than stopping Logan from doing something stupid like offering himself up to Jaeger as some type of martyr, _her mind concluded cynically.

Logan eventually nodded, not entirely happy with Bling's decision, while at the same time honest enough to admit that, in this case, Max could probably do with more backup than a guy on wheels.

"I'll follow you on my motorcycle," Max added in a clipped, purposeful manner.

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Using a map programme on his laptop, Logan quickly calculated how close they were to the closed tourist site.

Staring ahead through the windshield he noticed a run-down truck stop coming up on their right.

"This is our stop," he told Bling.

Bling looked around carefully as he drove the car into the driveway. There were three other vehicles parked at the dilapidated diner.

"Take your pick," Logan muttered with a tight smile.

Not bothering to kill the engine, Bling got out and walked to the front of the Aztek. Logan could see him bend down with a casual movement as if he were checking something on the car. He was out of Logan's sight for a second until he stood up again.

Logan watched him taking out his wallet as he wandered across to the diner. As he came alongside a large, rusty looking truck, Logan saw the wallet slip from his fingers. Bling bent down to pick it up, resting one hand on the wheel as he did so. His movement was quick, but in the next instant his hand snaked under the car and came out a second later. With a casual glance around the parking lot, Bling headed into the diner, the tracking device now firmly in place on the other vehicle.

Logan looked around cautiously, almost sure that someone must have been watching, but the depressing area remained deserted. Well, if Jaeger had been tracking the Aztek, he'd now only know that they were in the area – but not their actual time of arrival at the abandoned tourist park. Unless, of course, the truck that Bling had transferred the tracking device onto headed back to Seattle – then Jaeger would be really confused.

Seth's breathing sounded particularly loud in the car and Logan glanced around at him, half expecting to find him asleep, but Seth met his look with a serious gaze.

"We should be there soon, Seth," Logan told him. He was surprised to see a small smile light up the young man's face. It changed him completely – suddenly he became just like a regular kid – out to have some fun with his friends - only Jaeger was no friend.

A movement by the diner caught his eye, and he looked up to see Bling approaching with two Styrofoam cups in his hands. Logan opened his window as Bling reached the car, and took the two cups Bling held out to him.

"Thought I'd better make it look real," Bling murmured, watching for a moment as Logan handed the other cup back to Seth. "Figured you could both do with coffee."

"We good to go?" he added as he slid back behind the wheel and put one hand on the key in the ignition.

"I still haven't seen any sign of Max. She should know we're close by now," Logan murmured in a worried tone as he stared through the windows. 

Bling looked about as well. "She knows what she's doin'," he remarked calmly. With a small smile and an admonition to _drink your coffee_, he started the car.

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Max rode with a frown, concentrating on keeping Logan's car within sight, while at the same time trying not to make it look too obvious that she was following him. Her eyes constantly darted to her rear-view mirror. Several times cars came up close behind her, but both times her instincts told her that neither were the car she sought.

She wondered coldly what Jaeger would do? Rush to the site before them and try to be in and out before they arrived – or follow them in the hope that Seth would lead him to his buried treasure.

_What would you do if someone were threatening someone you cared about?_

Logan's question whirred in her mind like the constant revolutions of the wheels beneath her.

Suddenly the full lips curved upwards with a sneer of contempt.

"Just let 'em try," she snarled almost hopefully.

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"There's the turn-off," Logan pointed out, perhaps a little needlessly, as they came across a faded billboard amongst some roadside trees, pointing proudly to Old Seattle.

"Step back in time," it invited the prospective visitor. _If only..._was Logan's initial instinctive response, only to be annoyed by a rational voice in his mind pointing out to him all the things he would have to go back to and the one person he would have to give up.

"_Whatever," he muttered under his breath. _He was far too concerned with the current situation to direct any rational thought to an imaginary one.

Looking across to the other side, Logan caught the enquiring expression that Bling was directing at him.

"Just thinking aloud," he snapped a little defensively.

"You can talk to the trees for all I care," grinned Bling, turning the car off the main road as he spoke. The smaller road that led to the tourist park was badly potholed and Logan had to grab for his laptop as it nearly slid off his knee.

"Hope you've finished your coffee," Logan called over his shoulder to Seth as the car lurched once more. This time he had to grab onto the door, as well, to brace himself.

"Oops, sorry," muttered Bling, "these damn holes are kinda hard to miss."

"There it is," Logan said with a calm voice that belied the tension he felt inside. "Let's pull over here and wait for Max."

Ahead about 300 yards to their right, was the now abandoned Old Seattle, barely discernible through the trees that grew either side of the road and spread out to the countryside beyond. Perhaps the land here had been too poor to farm, or maybe too hilly, and that was why the location had been chosen in the first place, Logan mused distractedly as he looked about.

Quickly flipping open his laptop, he had another try at accessing the Internet. Bling peered hopefully at the screen as well, but the amount of time the screen was taking to load told its own story.

"Damn!" Logan fumed.

"Is this bad, Logan?" Seth asked, undoing his seat belt to lean forward.

"There was a site I wanted to look at – it had a detailed map of the town...would've come in handy," Logan told him, trying to keep his frustration under wraps.

"Here she comes," Bling murmured, his eyes on the rear-view mirror.

Within minutes, Max had pulled up alongside Logan's door. It said a lot for her present frame of mind that she made no sassy comment about the countryside or anything else. She simply looked ahead with a focussed expression as she examined the town from where they'd parked.

"That wall run all the way around?" she asked Logan with a frown as she looked at the ten-foot high brick fence.

"Not sure. Internet's down," was the terse reply.

Max shrugged. "Well, I guess I'd better do a bit of recon. You up for it, Bling?"

"Wait a minute... you got a plan?" Logan asked bitingly.

"Find the girls – break 'em out," Max responded coolly.

"And Emma," put in Seth firmly.

"Yeah." Max gave him a small smile of approval. "Besides," she said to Logan, "every time we've had a plan lately, something's gone whack."

"Aren't you at least gonna take Seth in with you?"

"Nah." Max fiddled with her mirror as she added smoothly, "I figure I can come and get him if I feel I need him."

Logan closed his mouth tight and snapped shut his laptop, not entirely sure if her decision to leave Seth in the car was for Seth's benefit or his own.

Sensing his tension Max turned her large brown eyes on him. She didn't appreciate him questioning her methods, but he was always kinda cute when he was worried about her and she couldn't quite hide the slight movement of her full lips that could have been taken as a smile. Her tone, however, when she spoke, was as sassy as ever. "Chill out, Logan. Bling and I will do a circuit of the fence before we head in there." She made a sudden face. "I guess we'd better walk. Don't wanna tell the whole world we're here," she told Bling.

"Fine with me," Bling smiled, appearing as unperturbed as Max by the magnitude of the task they'd set themselves.

Max stared ahead once more – but this time her pupils dilated, making the dark brown eyes appear to be almost black, and her gaze zoomed in with telescopic accuracy.

Logan looked up at her. "You see anything?"

"Just a big fence. If Jaeger's in there, he's not advertising the fact," she murmured as she continued to probe for any sign of life. Giving up, she swung her leg off her motorcycle and pushed it further along the shoulder of the road until it was in front of Logan's car. The grass was so long it nearly covered the wheels.

Logan watched Bling as he double-checked that his gun was loaded. "Your meds are due in half an hour," he murmured to Logan as he stuck the gun in the shoulder holster he wore under his jacket.

Logan couldn't help shake his head a little at the man.

"I don't recall that line ever being used by Arnold before he was about to take on the bad guys," Logan remarked caustically.

"That's coz he didn't have a stubborn boss," Bling shot back.

Heading back to Logan, Max bent over a little, laying both arms along his open window. "You'll be okay here, right?" She understood how little he relished a long, tense wait.

"Sure. We can always play Eye Spy while we're waiting," he replied dryly as he opened his laptop once more in the hope of getting a link.

---------------------------------------------------------------

"I should go in there. I can help," Seth said restlessly for the third time as he paced up and down beside Logan's door. He seemed to take a lot of satisfaction in trampling the hitherto long blades of grass that grew with wild abandon at the side of the road.

Logan rubbed the back of his head. He'd tried calling Matt but had only received a voice mail message, and to his utter frustration the Internet remained stubbornly offline.

The sky had become ominously dark and a chill wind now played with the leaves in the trees and managed to scatter further the few pieces of paper that littered the side of the road even out here – it appeared to be only a matter of time before the heavens poured forth with a vengeance.

Logan rubbed his hands together to warm them up. If Seth hadn't been outside he would have closed his window. He'd tried doing that very thing sometime earlier, but Seth's constant questions or declarations of strength had meant that he was only opening it again every few minutes to hear one of Seth's comments that he had absolutely no interest in hearing.

Logan absently watched Seth's long legs surely beating a flat path amongst the weeds and long grass beside the Aztek. A quick glance at his watch showed him that Max and Bling had already been gone almost thirty minutes. Logan tried to keep back the thoughts that were rushing at him: What if Max still hadn't come out in an hour? How long should he wait? Should he call Matt? Could Seth do anything? Max wouldn't rush things, he told himself. She'd take her time. And Bling...well, he practically invented the word 'patience'. He grimaced suddenly. _Boy,_ _I hate that word._

"Seth, can you do me a favour?"

Seth stopped at once and turned his head towards Logan.

"My wheelchair's in the back of the car. Would you put it next to my door?"

Seth looked at Logan closely, his bland expression now replaced by a hint of worry. "Max wouldn't like me to do that. She wants you to stay in the car," he told Logan unexpectedly.

_Great_, thought Logan, _Max isn't even here and she's got him scared of offending her._ On another level, Seth's intuition on Max's unspoken words surprised him. You sure couldn't write him off as being stupid.

"I don't wanna _use_ it – I just want to put it near me where I can reach it later," Logan explained with as much patience as he could muster.

Seemingly satisfied, Seth went around to the back and brought the pieces back to Logan. Instead of putting the chair beside Logan's door like he'd asked, he opened the driver's side door to put it inside the car. Immediately his eyes fell on the contents of Logan's black bag. While Seth had been pulling out the pieces of his chair, Logan had dutifully taken out the bottle of water to have his meds. The bottle of tablets however, was nowhere to be found and in the end he'd taken out the couple of things that sat on top to try and find them.

Logan had just popped two of the anti-biotic pills in his mouth when he suddenly realized that Seth was motionless, half in and half out of the car, his gaze riveted on the small, soiled piece of cardboard that had been Emma's only bookmark to that other part of her life.

It was as if the reality of what they were doing here had suddenly sunk in – perhaps Emma was close by – hurt, in trouble.

Logan could see the pain in Seth's eyes, but he also saw the grim determination of a sudden decision.

"We have to wait here, Seth. Max knows what she's doing," Logan told him quickly, trying to sound calm, 

"I need to help Emma. She needs me," Seth said with more emotion in his voice than Logan had yet to hear.

Logan reached out with his left hand and tried to grasp the boy's arm in the hope of bringing him back to an attitude of sense, but it only seemed to infuriate Seth and he grabbed Logan's arm instead in a painful grip and proceeded to squeeze.

"I..._have_...to go to her," he ground out, and Logan could well believe the stories now of him snapping every once in a while when teased by the neighbourhood bullies.

Logan knew he had to stop him somehow – if Seth went rushing in there he could ruin everything.

"Seth..." he began, thinking wildly for inspiration.

A sudden beep gave Logan the fuel he needed. "That's my laptop. It's telling me the Internet is working again. I can check the website that had the best map... if you let go," Logan told him persuasively.

Seth looked down at his hand that still held Logan's arm in a vice-like grip. Logan watched his expression carefully. The boy looked surprised – as if he thought his hand had got there of its own volition.

"You gonna let me check this out?" Logan asked in an off-hand manner.

Seth relaxed his hold, and waited expectantly while Logan searched for the site he wanted.

"This is it." Logan turned the laptop a little so that Seth could see the screen as well.

"Okay, what've we got here..." His studied the screen intently as he spoke, pleased to find it was a far more thorough map than the other one he'd seen. "Now that's something new," he added tersely, pointing with his index finger to Seth. "D'you remember seeing a mine when you were here before?"

Seth suddenly looked at Logan with a wild, startled look. It was as if Logan had jolted him with an electric charge. "Emma told me about that. She wanted to show it to me but the man came." His voice seemed to almost quaver as he spoke with the intensity of emotion behind his words. "_That's where she is."_

Before Logan had a chance to say another word, Seth, moving with surprising speed, had backed his huge frame out of the car and began running at top speed towards the town.

Logan opened his mouth and took a breath as he prepared to call out but instead he closed his eyes and slowly exhaled – a long, drawn-out action that centred every thought in his mind on the gnawing tension and frustration that was eating away at him.

"This is not the way it was meant to happen," he muttered as he finally opened his eyes and watched Seth's quickly retreating back.

_What was it about a mine that would have Seth running off so determinedly?_ his thoughts flashed at him.

Intent on finding an answer, Logan put his head down and stared intently at his screen.

They were unoriginal, trite, even clichéd, but Logan was surprised to discover how economically two words conveyed such a wealth of sinister meaning.

"Don't move."

He hadn't heard the car approach from behind. He hadn't been aware of the figure silently stalking his car as he'd watched Seth disappearing into the distance – and now it was all way too late.

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TBC


	25. Showdown, Part 2

Many thanks for the reviews - they always mean a great deal to me.

A very special thanks to Alaidh for betaing this huge chapter so quickly!

Chapter 25

Lying flat on her stomach atop the brick, perimeter wall, Max surveyed the compound with military precision.

Old Seattle nestled at the base of one of the rolling hills in the area. The town was simply laid out – one wide avenue bordered by rustic timber buildings and leafy, green trees. At the opposite end of town, to the right of her, Max could make out a stable and a blacksmith. The major development at that end of town made her roll her eyes –_ How many goldmines do you find at the end of your street_? she wondered cynically as she studied the mine's entrance. It was a wide, black, cavernous hole cut into the side of a steep, rocky hill, but it appeared to be covered by a mesh, security fence.

With Bling's calm presence by her side, they'd done a thorough check of the outside wall and had found three black sedans parked at the back of the property, but so far, they'd found no sign of life.

Max _knew_ Jaeger was in there somewhere – everything within her screamed that the FBI agent was close at hand.

The sun was quickly edging its way towards the horizon – they'd only have another sixty or so minutes of rapidly diminishing daylight left.

She wondered whether the darkness would prove to be a friend or a foe.

Jumping back down, Max returned to Bling waiting below.

"You ready for a leg-up?" she asked him.

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"Get goin' faster," the man rasped at Logan heatedly, lifting a leg and prodding him hard in the back with the thick heel of his leather boot. A tightly controlled look of annoyance crossed Logan's face, as he had to grab onto his wheels hard to prevent himself from pitching forward onto his face.

"You keep doin' that and we won't be going_ anywhere_," Logan retorted, now stopping completely while he slid himself back into his correct position.

"Whatever," the man replied unmoved, "just get goin'."

Logan twisted his head a little to get a look at the man who held a gun on him, but the result was another feral growl and a hard blow to the side of his head.

"My instructions were to bring you in – nothin' 'bout what state you had to be in," the other pointed out smoothly.

Logan nodded a little wryly and decided it was probably a good plan to keep his mouth shut. He suspected the man would prefer to hand him over to Jaeger in a less than pristine condition.

Logan cast frequent glances around the town as he pushed himself along the rutted, uneven, dirt surface that was Old Seattle's main road. Max was right, he mused, it was a replica of many-a-town found in any old western TV series. Up close, the buildings were quite dilapidated – it had obviously been many years since a coat of paint or even the most basic maintenance had been applied.

_Where is everyone? _he wondered with increasing concern. Max, Bling, Seth? Could Jaeger have captured everyone? The gunman's words about 'my instructions' had not been overlooked by Logan – Jaeger had definitely been tracking him. The question was, just how prepared had Jaeger been for their arrival?

"Davies!"

Logan stopped instinctively, surprised to see another three figures coming towards them. They were all dressed in casual clothes, and all held guns in their hands – not the usual image of FBI agents.

The three approaching men looked at Logan with a mixture of curiosity and cautiousness.

Once they'd reached Davies, apparently the name of the man holding the gun on Logan, one of them stepped forward and spoke quietly to him. Logan leaned back and gave his arms a rest, feigning casual indifference to their conversation. It was difficult for Logan to hear what he said but he thought he heard the word 'disappeared'. His hopes soared. _Was it the work of Max?_

More consultation occurred under their breaths, and then Davies strode off quickly, heading down one of the narrow alleys that ran between the buildings.

Logan looked up at the other three. _FBI...maybe mercenaries?_ he wondered, _and were they in the loop on Jaeger's plan or merely fellow agents following orders? If they were genuine FBI agents, then maybe there was a chance..._

"Come on, Special Agent Jaeger is particularly keen to see you," the man who'd spoken previously told Logan. Something about the sneer he managed to express when he said the agent's name gave him a lead.

"So, I take it you're not FBI agents?" Logan asked casually as he spun his chair around and began slowly pushing his way down the street again.

A large guffaw from one of the other men greeted this announcement, only to be quickly muffled when one of the other men snarled, "Shut up!"

"You, no more questions," he added to Logan in a threatening tone. He held the gun in his hand clearly for Logan to see, but apparently didn't consider Logan enough of a threat to actually aim it at him. The man's eyes darted to one of the other men. "Sparks!"

Logan then felt someone grab the back of his chair and he knew that his hitherto slow progress was at an end.

It was surprisingly quiet inside the town, so much so that the sound of something clattering on the wooden sidewalk opposite made all four instinctively turn their heads. They were completely caught off guard by the whirlwind of fists and feet that found their mark with devastating and unerring precision. Each of their senses struggled to grasp the speed of the assault – it was as if the blows erupted out of midair, explosions of pain erupting on their bodies without warning. Then, one by one, they were plummeting into darkness – crumpling at the knees, arms flailing, jaws, noses, cheekbones hitting the dirt road with a force that made them bounce a few inches from the ground then hit it again with a soggy thump.

Max looked around quickly. Her eyes glittered strangely in the gathering gloom of the fast approaching night.

Logan wheeled forward, shaking himself a little from the sense of awe that enveloped him as he'd watched Max dispatch the three with such consummate ease.

"So, that's how it's done," he remarked with a touch of admiration as he surveyed the carnage before him. Max spared him a glance as she ruthlessly checked each body for weapons.

Logan interpreted the accusatory look in her eyes that said _what are you doing here_, but chose to ignore it. "Any sign of the girls...Emma?"

She shook her head as she stood up and looked around uneasily. The fight had been quiet, but they were in the middle of the main street -hardly the place for a conference, and the three unconscious men were an unwanted advertisement of their interference. Hooking her hands under the arms of one of them, she spoke brusquely to Logan over her shoulder, "Head to the sidewalk. We're too exposed here."

Stopping only to pick up the three guns that Max had tossed away, Logan followed her as she dragged the man off the street and deposited him, none too gently, on the sidewalk. Logan wheeled himself up a ramp, thankful the town had been built when disabled access was still a priority. He frowned as he watched Max move the men – they needed to get them out of sight. With this thought in mind, he tried the doorknobs of the closest shops. They were all locked with the only thing that appeared to be in good order. Apparently the owners were doing their best to protect their investment.

Logan rattled the doorknob with frustration.

"I got it," Max murmured curtly, slipping a hand into her jacket pocket as she approached. Within seconds she had the door open and in another minute all three men were deposited inside, the door locked securely behind them once more. Max had considered the small window – they could escape through it if they were able to break it, so she'd removed their shoes after first checking that the small shop had been completely stripped bare.

Logan looked up at her as she turned from the door. "Do you know where Bling is...or _Seth?" _

"Seth?" Max echoed irritably, tossing away a piece of wood she'd found in the shop.

"Damned fool went rushing off. I found a map that showed a goldmine they'd built here..." He let his words trail off, letting her fill in the missing pieces.

"So you had to follow him," she snapped in a fierce whisper, before her eyes scanned the surrounding buildings.

"As a matter of fact – no," Logan corrected her, annoyed by her tone. "Jaeger knew we were here. He sent me a welcoming party."

Max barely seemed to notice his words. Her mind was working at a furious speed, processing and analysing this new information at her disposal.

"I've been right over this end of the complex – there's been no sign of Jaeger – just two of his thugs and they should still be sleeping peacefully," she concluded smoothly.

"What about Bling?"

"He was checking the other end – where you say the mine is," she added after a pause.

Logan made a slight grimace. He wished it had been Max checking the mine.

"I'm gonna head down that end of town...think I might do a bit of goldmining," she added with a gleam, and an ironic tilt of her brows. "You gonna hang around here?" she asked him, implying that that was exactly what she wanted him to do.

Logan shrugged. "Guess so."

"You got plenty of trusty six-shooters," she said lightly, motioning to the three on his lap. He nodded slightly, picking one up in his hand to familiarize himself with it. Max turned to go, then after a moments hesitation, she turned back and added, "Someone's likely to come looking for those three. You might be safer heading down that way a bit. Maybe I should unlock another door for you..."

"I'll be fine, Max," Logan interrupted tersely, then on a more even note, "Just concentrate on finding the girls."

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Max headed down the sidewalk, merging with the ever-deepening shadows as she flitted silently towards the far end of town.

Her eyesight sure and true even in the waning light, she kept an ever-vigilant lookout for Bling or Seth. So far, she'd accounted for five of Jaeger's men – how many more could he possibly have? It was hard to imagine him wanting to cut the four million into too many pieces of cake.

Max quickly reached the end of the sidewalk, and consequently, the protection of the shadows of the last building on that side of the town. Staring intently, she looked across to the mine entrance, carefully studying her surroundings for any sign of life. A crooked sign still announced a warning to those with heart conditions or to anyone with an aversion to cramped spaces. _What about anyone with an aversion to living?_ she mused darkly.

The distance to the mine opening was about 200 yards with no hint of cover. How many eyes were watching, she wondered with a grim smile as she walked the last few steps of the sidewalk. She took a breath, and was about to make a run for it, when she suddenly realized with awful certainty that someone was watching her from the shadows.

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Logan watched Max move off down the sidewalk, straining his eyes to see her in the gloom, until she turned a slight corner and was out of sight. For a few minutes he sat where he was, listening carefully to hear anything that would signify a return to consciousness of one of the men inside the room. At last, satisfied, he looked around the town. The wind had sprung up once more, and Logan could almost smell the approaching rain that was likely to burst forth with a vengeance.

Logan cast another long, hard look in the direction of the mine, but the distance and angle were too severe for him to make out anything at all. What he did feel, now that Max had left, was horribly exposed. It wasn't as if he could press himself into the shadows as Max had done. A little irritably, he came to the conclusion that she was right – it would be foolhardy to hang around here when anyone may come looking for the missing men, and he'd be of no use to Max at all if he managed to get himself caught again. He'd pissed her off once today already on that score. Pushing down hard on the metal rims, Logan got his chair moving along the uneven sidewalk, now heading away from the mine, down a ramp, across an alley, then up another ramp. On the other hand, his thoughts continued, it went entirely against the grain to hide in a room – as sensible as it all sounded to Max.

Logan suddenly pulled up short and listened, his hand automatically reaching for one of the guns on his lap. His ears strained to pick up the same sound again, but all he could hear was the moan and whine of the wind between the buildings. He relaxed again, feeling a little foolish that his heart rate had skyrocketed so quickly. He hadn't realized how jumpy he was.

With a deep breath to calm himself, Logan pushed on, wondering to himself a little wryly what distance Max would consider 'safe,' and just how many men did Jaeger have running around anyway?

Logan had just passed another narrow alley, when he stopped again, but this time what he heard was undoubtedly real, and it seemed to be coming from one of the buildings that backed onto the alley. His thoughts went to Seth – the banging he heard was loud enough to be Seth. Perhaps he'd been caught when he'd entered the town, and locked in a room somewhere as they had locked up Jaeger's men. _If it worked for us..._he thought to himself. On the other hand, there were the two guys that Max said she'd caught. _Damn, it may simply be one of them!_

Turning down the alley, Logan mentally cursed his inability to hold a gun while he wheeled. He knew Max was uneasy with his presence here – he couldn't really blame her, he felt a bit uneasy himself.

It was difficult to see in the alley as the buildings either side cast deep shadows, but he managed to avoid most of the potholes and arrived quite quickly at the door that was presently being bludgeoned with some sort of hard object. There was no window for him to look in – it appeared to be some sort of a storage facility.

Logan hesitated. He had no idea who was in there. _Guess, I might as well just ask._

"Who's in there?" he called out with a frown. The butt of the gun felt solid and almost comforting in his hand.

His question was met by silence. _Not promising_, he concluded silently as he stared at the time-ravaged timber door.

"Is that you, Seth?" he tried hopefully, thinking the boy would be more likely to respond if he was called by his own name.

"Logan?" asked a voice filled with wonder, hope, even incredulity.

Logan froze. Was it some sort of a trap?

"Logan, it's me, Genevieve! And Monique is here too," a breathless voice told him.

"Thank God," breathed Logan, then in a louder voice, "Are you both okay?"

Genevieve's voice came back to him strong and clear. "We're both okay. The man gave us something to put us to sleep, but we're both awake now. Monique wants a drink."

Logan couldn't keep the smile from his face.

"Logan, can you get us out? We wanna see our mommy and daddy."

"Are they here, too?" Logan asked, hoping for something concrete, but the pause told its own story.

"I'm not sure...we've been asleep," Genevieve called back. "Please get us outta here, Logan," she added simply, but Logan could hear the wealth of emotion that she tried to hide behind the simple words.

Logan wheeled up to the door and examined the lock. He would have given a great deal of money at that moment to anyone who would have retrieved the flashlight he kept in his car. The lock appeared to be strong, in good order as was the one Max had picked, but without Max's lock-picking skills, his hope lay in the timber of the door itself, which looked to be quite rotten.

"Okay, hold on. I've gotta find something to open the door with." He kept his voice upbeat, even though he grimaced at the same time he spoke, wondering just how he was going to do this. He couldn't shoot it off – too much of a chance he might hit the girls, not to mention drawing unwarranted attention in their direction.

Urgently scanning the alley, Logan looked for a solid piece of wood or even a metal bar. There seemed to be a fair amount of garbage in the alley, but not building scraps. With a flash he remembered the piece of timber that Max had tossed out of the shop they'd locked the other three in. It seemed a long way to go back, but there didn't seem to be much choice.

"Genevieve," he called softly, "I'm gonna hafta find something to help me open the door. I'll be gone for a few minutes."

Silence.

"Genevieve?" he asked sharply.

"We're still here, Logan." The voice sounded a little strained this time and his heart went out to her.

"I won't be long. Promise."

"Okay."

Pushing himself hard this time, Logan headed back out to the street, only to freeze suddenly as he recognized the man called Davies heading up the street in his direction. Even as he watched, he heard the man call someone's name. More than likely the name of one of the men Max had knocked out.

"Dammit, dammit, _dammit!"_ he swore under his breath as he quickly propelled himself backwards so that he was hidden beside the building wall. He had no choice but to turn and go back down the alley. He had to get the girls out of there _fast._

Logan made his mind up as he headed back to the girls. Once there, he took the largest and sturdiest of the guns off his lap and emptied the chamber, then grasped the gun by the barrel.

"Genevieve, don't worry. I've gotta get rid of the lock on the door. It's gonna be a bit noisy." Even as he spoke the words, the idea of muffling the sound came to him, and he quickly took off the hooded dark blue jacket he was wearing. Ignoring the damage he was doing to the material, he managed to wedge the arm of it above the lock so that the entire lock was covered, then he smashed at the lock with a savage blow. After a few blows, he could tell that the lock was already beginning to tear away from the door. Removing the jacket, he quickly checked his results. The lock was indeed coming away, but now he needed to aim with more precision to remove or snap the last few screws.

How close was Davies? Was it better to be quiet but slow, or fast but 'tell-the-whole–world-I'm-here' loud?

Logan was about to put his jacket back over the lock, when something made him remove it just as quickly. He could hear a voice calling clearly above the wind. The actual words were difficult to pick up, but the voice sounded like Davies – full of feral frustration. He was about to smash at the lock again when Davies called his name. "Cale. I know you're out there somewhere. Don't make me come looking for you," he warned coldly.

Logan hesitated just once, then in the next instance, he let the butt of the gun smash down on the most vulnerable part of the lock. He cringed as the sound seemed to boom down the alley, but he swung a second time regardless, and this time two small figures burst out and threw themselves into his arms as soon as he'd shoved the door inwards.

"Too dark," Monique complained, justifiably unhappy with her living conditions.

"Logan, I _knew_ you'd find us," Genevieve beamed.

Logan had to reluctantly push them both away.

"Cale!"

Davies' voice was getting louder much to Logan's dismay. Tossing away the battered gun he'd used as a battering ram, Logan whispered to the girls quickly, "Sorry, you'll have to wait in there just a few minutes longer. Can you do that?" he asked curtly.

Genevieve nodded for both of them, even though her face showed how little she relished the prospect.

Logan unlocked Monique's arm from about his neck, then helped her slide off his knee. It said a lot for her state of mind that she didn't make a fuss as she normally would have, but simply clung to her sister's hand.

"Cale!" Davies voice was much closer now – almost echoing down the alley.

Ignoring the sudden look of fear on Genevieve's face, he pushed her and Monique back into the room. At the last minute he told Genevieve reluctantly, "Listen, if something happens and I don't come back for you, I want you to try and run out of this place and into the closest farmhouse. Can you do that?"

Her eyes told him that she thought she could, but clearly didn't want to.

"Logan..." she began.

"Hush. I'll be back," he added, feeling guilty that he'd scared her.

The poor child nodded, but managed to smile tremulously at him nonetheless. "You want my stick?" she offered him.

Logan went to say no, but when he saw the sturdy implement, a thought came to mind, and he accepted it instead.

Pushing himself back to the main street, the stick as well as the guns on his lap, Logan tried to quickly formulate a plan. As it turned out, time to do this was a luxury denied him. By the time he'd reached the main street, the sound of footsteps clearly carried above the noise of the wind. The sidewalk Davies walked along was virtually at ground level, which suited Logan fine as he waited around the corner of the building. He held Genevieve's stick firmly in his hands as if it was a golf club and he was about to take a swing at the ball. However, no game of golf he'd ever played had had as much riding on it as this swing did.

The footsteps came closer...closer... closer...until at last Logan could see the toe of Davies's shoe appear on the sidewalk exit ramp – only then did he swing.

The stick took Davies hard in the stomach – sinking deep into the fleshy parts of his body. The man let out a huge oomph of agony as he doubled over and sank to the ground, rolling over until he was off the ramp and lying in the alley. Mentally cursing that Davies was now out of his reach, Logan hastily laid the stick across his knees and pushed hard to reach the man before he had a chance to recover. Davies was writhing and moaning quite loudly and Logan had a moment's attack of conscience as he lifted the staff to hit him again, but all thoughts of fair play suddenly evaporated as without warning, Davies hand snaked out and grabbed him by the ankle. Caught completely off guard, Logan had no chance to react as Davies now grabbed his other ankle as well and with a nasty grin of anticipation, yanked him from his chair.

The first thing Logan felt was his shoulders hitting the ground, then his head struck the footrest with enough force to make him see stars momentarily. In those few seconds, Davies jumped up with eyes blazing in a wild, unrestrained anger and grabbed Logan by his sweater at the throat. Logan resisted his first instinct, which was to grab at the man's hands. Hopefully, somewhere nearby, should be one of the guns that had been sitting on his lap. Too soon, Davies first blow slammed into the side of his head, his aim a little thrown by his awkward angle. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Logan was thankful that he was still conscious. Davies looked like he'd had a lot of experience at this kind of thing. His second blow was far more convincing, causing Logan to momentarily forget why he was letting Davies beat the crap out of him.

_Damn._ _Where was the gun?_

His hand swept the area desperately.

_Dammit, Logan, you gotta change tactics,_ he told himself, as looking up he saw Davies draw his fist well back, taking his time to get his angle just right. He even leaned in a little closer to get a surer hold of Logan's sweater.

Logan knew he was less than seconds away from a black void. Instinctively he grabbed at Davies' arm with his left hand, bracing himself for the blow that was coming, while all the time his right hand encountered frustratingly nothing but dirt and stones.

Davies paused a moment to gloat, then he let go a powerful swing that was going to show Cale once and for all. Logan saw it coming. He tried to move his head to avoid it...then he brought up his right hand.

Davies was still smiling when the gun butt smashed into the side of his head. The fist that had been aimed with such certainty still found its mark, but only as a soggy missile that collapsed on impact as Davies collapsed onto Logan's chest.

Logan hastily heaved the man off his chest, letting him roll onto the dirt beside him and then struggled up on his elbow to double check that the man was truly down for the count – _make it a long count,_ he added wryly, his breath coming in short gasps as he looked down at the man.

Satisfied that Davies was going to stay down for some time, Logan looked around for his wheelchair, then with a start he realized his glasses were no longer in place.

A quick, slightly blurry search found them within reach of his hand – but his wheelchair was another matter and he had to drag himself several feet to reach it. Once he had it righted, he paused for a minute to get his strength back, wearily letting his head rest on the seat.

The sound of running footsteps behind him made him turn quickly, but he relaxed as he saw the two girls run up, neither one perturbed by the unconscious body across the way.

"Wow. That was so coooool!" Genevieve told him, incredibly impressed.

Monique took one serious look at the unconscious form on the ground, and announced loudly, "He's a _bad man_."

Logan shook his head a little at their calmness, when his own heart was still racing as he hauled his body back into the chair.

"You want me to get his gun?" Genevieve asked hopefully, watching him as he lifted each leg into position.

"No," Logan told her quickly in a tone designed to dampen her enthusiasm as he wheeled across and reached down and grabbed Davies' gun that was lying by the man's hand. Manoeuvring his chair so that he could check the rest of the man's clothing for some sort of ID or hopefully his own car keys, gun or phone he added to Genevieve, "But you can pass me his bag."

Successful on two accounts, Logan had just put his car keys in his pocket and finished checking that his gun was loaded when Genevieve asked him, "What's this, Logan?"

He looked across to see her holding a small, tan coloured, rectangular-shaped block.

Logan looked at it with a kind of numb horror as he remembered that Jaeger's FBI fact sheet included the information that he was a demolition expert.

Logan snatched the explosive off Genevieve. "This is not good," he muttered as he took the bag from her and searched the rest of the contents. He found more C4 and three detonators.

Vaguely aware of Genevieve asking him a question, he searched his memory for what he could remember about the explosive.

"Logan. Is this bad?" Genevieve's insistent voice finally broke through his thoughts. Quickly stowing the contents back in the bag, he told her quietly, "These are explosives. You know what that means?"

The child nodded her head slowly, her eyes wide with understanding, one hand reaching out to grab Monique's.

"I've gotta find Max. She needs to know about this," Logan murmured, his eyes instinctively darting to the main street. Max was out there somewhere ... and Bling.

"Is she here somewhere? I can find her for you," Genevieve offered bravely.

In spite of the situation, Logan smiled. She was a courageous little thing.

"I think I'll need you to look after Monique for me," he told her gently. "But thanks."

Reaching down he put two fingers to Davies' neck. The man's heartbeat was reasonably strong and steady. There was no telling how long he'd be out for. With no way of tying the man up, Logan was extremely reluctant to leave the girls anywhere alone. The thought crossed his mind of sending them out to his car, but it was a long way out there and he couldn't bear the thought of one of Jaeger's men catching them again.

He looked around as he felt a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "What are we gonna do, Logan?" Genevieve asked quietly.

Desperately hoping that he was making the right decision, he said to her, "I think we'd better stay together."

A look of pure relief flooded Genevieve's features.

Logan leaned forward and took one of each of the girls' hands in his own. "We're gonna hafta go and find Max, but that means crossing the street and heading to the end of town." Logan hesitated before going on. He didn't want to scare the girls, but they had to be prepared..."If anything should happen, Genevieve, I want you to take Monique and run as fast as you can and hide until Max or Bling come to find you."

"Won't you come to find me?" Genevieve asked a little tremulously, hoping he didn't mean what she thought he meant.

"Hey, I found you once already. I gotta let the others in on some of the fun. Right?"

Genevieve gave him an unsure smile and grabbed at Monique's hand again, squaring her shoulders as she looked towards the end of the alley.

"Logan, do you know where my doll is?" asked Monique, adding in sad little voice, "I lost her."

Releasing his brakes, Logan assured her, "Well, if you can't find her, we'll just go back to the shop and buy you another doll."

"Now?" Monique asked hopefully.

"Soon," was the evasive reply.

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TBC


	26. Showdown, Part 3

Once more - my many thanks for any reviews.

Huge thanks to Alaidh for all her work betaing this.

Chapter 26

The shadows were well and truly lengthening by the time they headed out of the alley. Logan was amazed how loudly and with what force he could feel his own heart beating in his chest. He was uncomfortably reminded of the smiling yellow ducks in the old shooting gallery games – _Damned if I can understand what they have to be so cheery about, _he thought dryly.

The girls stayed close behind him. Even though Genevieve gave him a tiny grin every time he twisted his head to check on the two of them, he could see the well warranted, fearful anticipation in her eyes.

Logan kept to the sidewalk as they headed towards the mine. At least it offered them some slight protection – though it might not have been much more than a feeling of being not quite so exposed.

Trying not to think too closely about men with guns hiding in shadows, Logan continued along at a fast pace. His breath was coming quickly by the time they'd reached the end of the sidewalk.

It looked to be a very long way to the mine from here. A very long 'no-cover, no- protection, highly-exposed' way from where he sat with the girls.

"Is it far now, Logan?" Genevieve asked.

"Mmmm," murmured Logan as he looked across in the half-light to the faded sign that announced 'Lucky Strike Mine.' Logan couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. _How original – Max will be so impressed_. The creators of Old Seattle had done their best to make it look like the mine was out in the open country somewhere by planting a large grove of trees about the front of the mine.

Logan absently wiped his sweaty palms on his pants then repositioned the gun a little so that it would be at the correct angle if he needed to pick it up quickly – a movement not lost on Genevieve, who watched him with serious eyes. A slight tremor ran through her body, but she said nothing, merely gripped Monique's hand a little tighter.

"I'm tired," Monique announced plaintively at that point.

Logan looked at her closely – her small form was plainly flagging.

"Hey, not long to go now, Monique. Can you walk just a little bit farther? Then you can stop and have a nice long rest."

"I wanna ride," she whined a little, sounding precariously close to tears.

Logan looked at Genevieve for some inspiration. He'd have no hope at all of defending them if he had Monique on his knee.

"Come to me, bub-bub," Genevieve said to her in a soothing tone, holding out her arms to pick the child up.

Monique went willingly, resting her small head on Genevieve's shoulder.

"You okay with her?" Logan asked doubtfully. "She's heavy."

Genevieve shrugged. "I've carried her lots of times."

"Good girl," Logan encouraged her as he flashed her one of his rare, wide smiles. He didn't realize that it was the best tonic he could have given her. Genevieve silently resolved to carry her for miles, as long as it earned her Logan's approval.

The wind was beginning to blow really hard now, swirling paper and dust high into the air.

Picking out the smoothest path for his chair, they braved the open area and moved out from the wooden sidewalk. "Now remember what I told you," Logan reminded Genevieve. "At any sign of trouble..."

"I run and hide until Max or Bling find me," she repeated carefully.

"That's right."

Logan's eyes probed the darkness as best as they could. There were so many shadows now – towards the mine the tree branches moved wildly in the wind. It was impossible to see if there was someone lying in wait for them. _If Jaeger were in there, would he have a man on guard? More than likely, _he had to admit. The thought shook him. He knew he was counting on the fact that Max would've taken the guy out.

Pushing hard, his shoulders beginning to burn with the effort, Logan began counting down the distance they had yet to traverse – they were more than half way, with perhaps only seventy-five yards to go. Considering their present predicament it looked to be more like five miles, thought Logan with a grimace. A bullet could travel seventy–five yards in a remarkably short space of time. His eyes searched intently even as he murmured a few encouraging words to Genevieve.

It was now only forty yards or so to go – there'd been no wild calls to stop and no ear shattering reports of gunshots. Logan began to dare hope that they'd make it without incident.

"_Logan."_ Something in Genevieve's tone put that hope depressingly to rest.

"Cale!"

"Run!" Logan called to Genevieve as he stopped and swung around. _Too slow_, he warned himself as the manoeuvre was awkward on the uneven, stony surface of the road – made doubly so by his frantic haste.

Vaguely aware of Genevieve clutching wildly at Monique, he finally turned far enough to lift his gun and face his attacker.

Davies was already on the main street. Even as Logan watched, a flash of light erupted from the end of his hand, but it was the deeper boom from close behind him that made him jump.

Confused, but incredibly relieved, he watched as Davies slumped to the ground.

The next instant, someone ran past him and knelt down beside the unconscious man, then hauled him over his shoulder and started walking towards Logan. _Davies is having a rough night,_ thought Logan unsympathetically as he remembered the painful boot between his shoulder blades, not to mention the bruises on his face.

"See you found the girls," a deep voice murmured with unmistakeable surprise and pleasure. Logan felt a firm hand clasp his shoulder and saw a flash of white teeth as Bling headed over to the mine entrance with the, once again, unconscious Davies. As he passed, Genevieve and Monique ran out from behind the tree they had sheltered behind.

"Bling, where's Max? I need to warn her – Jaeger has explosives," Logan called to him a little breathlessly as the three of them followed him over. Bling dumped the body of Davies on the floor then knelt down and flicked on a flashlight to check out the extent of the man's injuries, revealing a creased temple.

Logan glanced quickly around. The visitors' entrance was more like a large cavern – the area where parties would meet before doing a tour of the tunnels themselves.

Genevieve and Monique stayed nervously right in the entranceway, neither looking thrilled at the prospect of actually entering.

"Max is inside the tunnels looking for Jaeger," Bling told Logan, reaching into the bag he carried and bringing out some rope.

"She still hasn't found him?" Logan asked incredulously.

"The damned mine's got tunnels goin' off in all directions. He's in there somewhere, all right – we could hear voices, but the sound was echoing so badly it was hard to tell what direction they were coming from."

"Seth?"

"I haven't seen anyone else. Not in there, anyway. I met up with Max before. We tried a few tunnels, then she sent me out here to check on you – gotta hand it to that girl when it comes to timing," Bling got out quickly.

"You gotta go back in there and warn Max," Logan repeated, casting anxious glances towards the back of the cavern where the tunnels themselves started.

Bling hesitated. This wasn't exactly Max's orders – and now that Genevieve and Monique were here... "Max can look after herself. I think we should get the girls to safety."

Logan spoke quickly. "I'll watch the girls..."

Logan was surprised to see Bling no longer in front of him as he disappeared in a choking, swirl of dust that filled the air. Logan didn't know if he yelled at him – he was vaguely aware that his mouth was open when the deep-throated boom tore at his ears with an intense vibration that swept right through his entire body.

For a fraction of time Logan was only aware of the intense pain in his eardrums as the sound seemed to echo and reverberate, then he realized his arms were raised above his head as it was no longer just dust that fell but brutal meteors of timber and rock that had been forced from the mine by the intense force of the explosion.

"Logan. Logan..."

"Damn," he managed to mutter, his voice thick with dust. "Bling, you okay?" The words sounded strange, foreign – almost as if they belonged to someone else. _Why was it so damned dark_, he wondered. "Bling," he tried again, but this time the word stuck in his throat and instead he coughed deeply with an intensity that hurt his ribs _– or hurt somewhere_, he thought vaguely.

'Dammit, Bling," he called again, once the paroxysm had passed.

"I'm here, Logan," Bling's voice told him clearly and he looked up to see his trainer's face close to his own.

His hearing seemed to be returning to something like normal, because now he could clearly hear the sound of a child sobbing and Genevieve's frantic voice calling his name.

"Girls, it's okay," Bling called back. "Just wait there, we'll be out in a minute."

Logan struggled to relieve a painful tension in his neck – with some surprise he realized he was actually lying on the ground and his neck felt so strained because he was lifting it from the ground to look around. Something seemed to be digging cruelly into his upper back.

Logan squinted quickly as a wide beam of bright light transfused the darkness into a hazy world of dust and tortured beams and rock fragments. With a grunt he attempted to struggle up onto his elbows.

"Don't move," Bling's voice cautioned him quickly as the beam of light travelled up first his legs, then the rest of his body.

Logan looked about and his shocked gaze took in what looked to be the total destruction of the mine. "Oh God. Max! Bling ... she's in there." His words were an appeal...desperate.

Bling looked about quickly to ascertain the degree of damage. "Just hang on a moment," he told Logan with a calmness he wasn't really feeling.

He quickly squatted down beside Logan, then looked up as two small incongruously clean figures amongst all the dust and dirt came to stand in silence next to him.

"Here, hold this," Bling said at once to Genevieve, handing her the flashlight. He sensed the child had questions he didn't want to answer. "Shine it on Logan."

"Bling, I'm fine. You need to find Max...the others."

Without a word, Bling swept deft hands over Logan's body, feeling for any irregularities or oddly bent limbs while Logan struggled to sit up.

"Easy," cautioned Bling, removing from the top part of his legs what he now thankfully realized was a reasonably light wooden beam as Logan pushed himself into a sitting position.

Logan strained to see through the murky depths of the dust-filled gloom to where he knew the mine tunnel extended into the hillside. "Bling...the tunnel?" He couldn't bring himself to put his fears into words. Had it totally collapsed? Were Max and the others trapped in there somewhere? As he stared ahead, a starkly vivid picture appeared in his mind of bodies crushed and bloodied beneath tons of rubble with twisted limbs and awkwardly bent necks...brown eyes staring at him in blank accusation.

Bling, who was righting his wheelchair and clearing it of debris, spoke to him sharply. "Logan. You still with us?"

Logan shook off the numbing affects of shock with determination. When he looked up Bling had the wheelchair at his side.

Still worried about any internal or other injuries that he was unable to diagnose, Bling said a curt, "No," to Logan as he positioned himself to haul his body into the chair. Instead the trainer stood behind him, his hands beneath Logan's shoulders. Bling had just taken his full weight in his arms when a ghost-like, dust-besmeared figure came staggering from the tunnel.

"What the..." Bling began. He quickly closed his mouth as he saw the gun Jaeger held on them. Caught as he was with Logan in his arms he could do nothing. Frustratingly he could feel the weight of his own gun in his pocket.

"Jaeger," Logan struggled out in shock as he realised who it was. "What of the others...Max?"

"You think I care?" the FBI agent spat out, then literally spat a mouthful of dirt from his mouth.

He waited until Bling had transferred Logan, then he snapped to the trainer, "You move and I'll shoot you."

"Why don't you give up, Jaeger? Haven't enough people died already because of this money?" Logan asked him coldly, determinedly trying to quell the voice in his head that said, _This man killed Max._

"You're a self-righteous bastard aren't you, Cale?" Jaeger sneered. "Well maybe I don't have all your money, but I have enough sense to know that all the money in the world won't bring your girl back."

Logan stared blankly at Jaeger. It seemed as if, for a cold moment, a part of him had been extinguished. "You won't get away with this, Jaeger. I_ will_ find you." Logan was surprised at how calm he sounded...how coldly certain of his promise.

Jaeger was walking away now – out of the mine, away from the destruction he'd caused, away from the lives he'd destroyed with his greed and ruthlessness.

The agent's eyes darted to the two girls who were now trying to hide themselves behind Bling. A quick gleam lit Jaeger's eye and before Bling had a chance to react, the agent reached out and grabbed Monique by the arm.

Bling reached for his gun with lightning speed but Jaeger picked the child up and held her across his body like a shield with his gun pressed to her temple.

Monique turned wide, imploring blue eyes at Logan, too scared to even cry.

"Don't Jaeger," Logan cried out, while Bling could only stand there with his gun raised.

"Throw down the gun," Jaeger snarled.

Bling didn't hesitate. He threw it down, then watched coldly as Jaeger picked it up.

Within seconds, the agent had disappeared into the night with the child.

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"Bling, follow him," Logan urged his trainer above the sound of Genevieve's broken sobs.

"You tellin' me that scumbag got away?"

Logan turned his head to look down the tunnel as Genevieve swung the flashlight in that direction. He watched, startled, as three figures slowly emerged from the dust-churned tunnel, not unlike spectres returning from the dead.

"Mommy, Daddy," Genevieve cried out, this time unable to stop the tears that coursed down her cheeks. "He took Monique!"

She hardly looked like Max – her face was blackened, her clothing and hair covered in fallout. In the flashlight's beam as his eyes searched hers with less restraint than was usual he caught her flicker of surprise at his presence. Max stared for a moment as his eyes reflected the heartfelt relief that flooded his body. For the briefest of seconds, her lips curved in a small tight smile, in answer to all the questions she saw in his expressive green eyes. Then the look was gone and she was handing her charges into the hands of Bling as she quickly tried to grasp what it was Genevieve was saying.

Max didn't even comment as Logan told her coldly that Jaeger had Monique.

"Emma and Seth are in there. They need help," she told Bling, and then she was gone.

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Max ran from the tunnel, only pausing momentarily as she reached the open area in front of the mine. Driving rain beat against her face and turned the dust on her leather jacket to dirty rivulets.

"Jaeger, you're really beginning to piss me off," she said bluntly as she looked around for either him or Monique.

As soon as Logan had broken the news to her, her mind had begun calculating Jaeger's most likely move. Old Seattle was stuck in the middle of nowhere - he'd need a car to escape.

Her eyes searched with an intensity that was more than just her Manticore training. _How far would Jaeger go?_ she asked herself.

_Know your enemy. Evaluate. Decide. Act._ It was all so much more clear-cut when the life of someone you cared about wasn't involved – but they didn't teach you that at Manticore.

_What would you do if someone were threatening someone you cared about?_

Max tried to ignore the thought as she stared into the wet night, but the image of Monique's sweet, delicate features filled her mind.

_What if you couldn't help them? What if you failed...as Logan had failed Sophy?_ The thoughts tormented her. _How would **you** deal with it? Did Manticore train you to accept defeat?_

"Oh no!" The words were wrung from her even as she tried to ignore the wave of foreboding that swept over her. She stood still for the merest second before the gravity of what she saw galvanised her into action.

Through the heavily falling rain she could see Jaeger, with Monique hanging on grimly to his back, traversing the lower edge of the rooftop of the saloon.

"The man's whack!" she grated out as she raced across to the only three storey building in the town. She knew his car was parked close by on the other side, but the rooftop was well above the ten-foot fence.

As she neared the building, she realised that Jaeger hadn't gone to the saloon on an impulse. A long ladder was leaning against the side of the building – it was all too much of a coincidence. Jaeger was a professional. It suddenly became clear to Max that Jaeger had been planning to come to Old Seattle for some time. Certainly long enough to have his escape route ready.

Availing herself of the ladder, Max, using her sure-footed Manticore speed, climbed up to the base of the steeply pitched roof. She stood there, unaware of the buffeting she was receiving from the force of the wind and rain. Her eyes were captivated by the sight of Jaeger, with Monique still clinging desperately to his back, at the farthest end of the roof from where she stood.

He was now attempting to climb the steep roof itself, apparently intent on reaching the very zenith of the building. Max's eyes zoomed in on a taut line that she could see running from the chimney and disappearing below the back of the building – Jaeger's escape route! The line was probably attached to the perimeter fence.

Max wasted no time. Rather than attempt to climb up the roof, she leapt the distance, and landed on the highest point, only to wobble precariously as one foot immediately slipped on the slick shingles. For a moment she balanced like a trapeze artist with both arms stretched out either side of her until she found her equilibrium.

Jaeger, meanwhile, some twenty yards ahead of her, was slowly making his way up the steeply sloping roof. Max could clearly see Monique on his back – her small arms locked tightly about his neck. Even as she watched, one of Jaeger's feet slipped on the treacherously wet shingles. Amazingly, he somehow managed to keep his other foot in place, which was just as well as it was highly unlikely their wayward progress would be stopped until he hit the ground, three, long, storeys below. The only thing at the edge of the roofline was the thin guttering, and it was unlikely to halt his progress.

Max moved even as she watched Jaeger's progress. She was thankful more than ever, this night for her feline DNA as she 'tight roped' her way along the very top of the roof with incredible speed.

Jaeger had nearly made it to the top by the time Max was almost abreast of the agent.

"Give it up, Jaeger," she called loudly above the shriek of the wind and steady rhythm of the rain drumming steadily on the wooden shingles.

He was cool, she had to admit. The man barely made a sign that he was surprised by her presence, but she knew he had to be.

He was only about five yards away from her now, when, to Max's surprise, he suddenly quickened his movements as if he were trying to get to his goal before she caught up with him.

The decision was a bad one – as soon as he put too much pressure on the wet shingles, his feet simply slid right off them and he lost his footing. Almost by instinct, Jaeger managed to reach out his right hand and somehow got a handhold on the top shingle

Max rushed farther along until she was even with him. To her amazement, she found herself looking into the barrel of his gun.

"Get back," he yelled at her.

"I don't care about you, Jaeger. I just want the child," Max told him coldly.

"You've gotta be kidding me! She's my ticket outta here," he rasped back.

Max went to reach for Monique, regardless.

"Don't even think about it!" Jaeger snapped back, now with a dangerous edge to his voice. They both knew it was impossible for him to hold on much longer.

Unexpectedly, the decision was taken out of both their hands when the shingle he was holding onto broke away – before he'd taken a single breath, both he and Monique were sliding down the roof, and there was nothing to stop them or break their fall until they hit the ground.

Virtually the same instance, Max lunged and grabbed Jaeger's hand. The added weight proved to be her undoing, as well, as the shingle she stood on gave way, causing her feet to slip out from underneath her. Suddenly all three were heading, with increasing speed, down the sloping roof.

Max, who was half sitting up, had a brief glance of a small face quickly raised to look at her with terrified, frantic eyes, as Jaeger's speed increased, regardless of his attempts to dig his fingernails into the shingles to slow their progress.

Max didn't hesitate. Somehow, she reached across to Jaeger, who was slightly in front of her, and grabbed Monique's arm, wrenching it free. Like a drowning man grabbing onto another, so too did Jaeger try to grab onto Max. Without hesitation, Max kicked him off, but he reached out to grasp her leg again. She could see his hand wildly clutching – and then she could only see his face and then nothing as he dropped noiselessly over the edge of the building. And then Max's legs were disappearing over the side as well. She could no longer feel the hardness of the shingles under her feet and she knew she was taking Monique to a painful oblivion.

She knew there was only one chance. There would be no second chances. _Logan failed –people failed._

Still holding onto Monique's hand, she felt the child begin to disappear over the edge of the building, as well. Max kept her eyes open and watched – as soon as her hand came near the gutter, she reached for it and held on with an iron grip.

Max's ears, even above the wind and rain, heard the guttering creak and groan as it bore the sudden brunt of their weight – then she heard the ominous pop as brackets snapped and rusted screws pulled away from rotten timber. Then even louder she heard the sound of Monique screaming as she looked down at the inky blackness below her.

Worse still, the gutter was filled with mud and slime and leaves and her handhold was tenuous at best. For the first time, Max had to face a bleak fact – sometimes her designer DNA strength just wasn't enough. Sometimes you couldn't beat the circumstances that life threw at you or the reality of the laws of gravity.

Without a doubt, her handhold on the gutter was beginning to slip.

She knew that she could survive a fall like this – but Monique? Could she cradle her as they hit the ground – would it be enough?

Then suddenly her handhold was gone and she was clutching at the air...and Max knew what it was to be human...and she experienced the same emotion she'd felt when they'd given Brin up – only ten times worse.

"No!" she screamed, as she jabbed upwards for her handhold once more and even in that very instance, her foot, which had been searching the building wall desperately for a foothold encountered something. She didn't know what it was - a bracket, the top of a window, whatever - but it was enough. Within seconds her other foot had found a corresponding foothold and she knew with certainty that she'd succeeded.

With a flood of relief, she was able to lever herself up at least twelve inches – and quickly change the grip she had on the guttering for a surer one. Now able to brace herself, she drew up the hand that held Monique and lay her safely on the guttering and then pulled herself up as well.

For a moment the two of them lay on the guttering – Monique in Max's arms, completely bewildered and sobbing deeply on her chest.

Max let her sob until the convulsions finally eased – almost overawed to feel the warmth of the child safely in her arms. It had been too close...way too close.

Finally, Max took the child surely in her arms and stood fearlessly at the rooftop edge,

even though the rain still drove hard against her face and the wind whipped crazily at her hair.

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Monique's parents met her at the bottom of the ladder, still so shocked by what they had just seen that they could only smile at Max tremulously and hold Monique tightly in their arms.

Max walked around to the front of the building where she found Logan with Jaeger.

"Someone shoulda told them not to put a horse trough there," she remarked.

Logan looked up at her – it was her usual smart-ass tone, but underneath it there was something else.

Jaeger would probably have had a good chance of survival if he hadn't landed awkwardly on the wooden horse trough below.

Logan watched her as she shrugged unsympathetically. "So, insteada four million, he ends up with a broken neck," Max murmured as her dark eyes looked down at the twisted and broken body with a coldly penetrating stare that never ceased to amaze him. It was an expression that didn't match her twenty years.

"You did good up there," he told her quietly.

Max turned away from him and gave an unconcerned laugh. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' of joining the circus. Hear they have openings for girls like me."

Logan frowned at the tone he heard in her voice, but he was distracted by Bling running up to him. The man quickly took in Jaeger's battered body and the family reunion still happening by the ladder, but his face when he turned to Logan was serious. "You'd better come."

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The flashlight's beam was beginning to yellow and grow dim, but perhaps it was just as well, because a harsh light would have been too cruel in the presence of such grief.

The figure rocked back and forth, crouched low over the body, all the while a low, intensely painful moan seemed to emit from somewhere deep within.

Max paused on the threshold.

She didn't stir when Logan and Bling came in a few minutes later, only to pause as she had – mesmerized by the depth of emotion they saw before them.

Finally, Logan pushed forward slowly, both because of the debris and because this was a task he felt completely unprepared for. What could he possibly say? He knew from experience that sometimes words, however well intentioned, were sometimes more painful than the silence.

Seeing Logan's intention, Bling stepped forward and wordlessly cleared a path.

Once Logan had reached the two figures, he hesitated for a moment, then reached out and put a hand on the other's shoulder.

The figure became gradually still, and slowly quieter.

Logan swallowed hard, his eyes intent on the figure kneeling in front of him.

Finally, she looked up at him, with eyes that held more pain than he'd ever wanted to see.

"It's my fault," she whispered. "It's my fault Seth's dead."

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Epilogue to follow.


	27. Epilogue, Part 1

Thanks very much for all the reviews – they are always greatly appreciated.

Huge thanks to Alaidh for her work on this enormous chapter.

**A/N: This is part one of a three part conclusion. The other 2 chapters are written, and will be posted when the poor slave driven Alaidh has a chance to do them.**

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EPILOGUE, Part 1

The long, slow wait for Matt Sung to arrive at Seattle Town was a gruelling anti-climax to endure after the drama of the early evening.

Max had gone back out into the rain and, after a rather distasteful search, found Logan's cell phone and a set of car keys in Jaeger's pocket.

Bling was keeping a lookout at the cavern entrance for her return, his usually calm features creased with worry.

"Great," he breathed when she put the phone in his hand, reluctant to go any further.

Instead, she stood a little stiffly by the entrance, suddenly having second thoughts about her first inclination to talk to Logan as he was still by Emma's side.

Logan and Bling had been unable to persuade the distraught girl to leave her brother as he lay amongst the rubble of the mine. In fact, Emma showed no indication that she'd even heard them. She appeared to be lost in her own world of misery and grief.

Seeing Max return, Logan looked at her, his eyebrows raised with a 'what shall we do' expression, but the answer in her eyes was cold.

_Stick it, Logan - ask me to lie, cheat, steal or kick-ass for you, but don't ask me to help Emma,_ her eyes seemed to warn.

Logan looked a little puzzled at her reaction, but instead turned his attention to other things. He wondered how long they'd have to wait for Matt Sung to arrive. He was concerned about the children and their parents. They were huddled in the cavern, like survivors from a disaster, cold, wet and shivering – their faces reflecting the trauma of the last few days as they tried to come to terms with the events they'd just endured.

He watched as Bling spoke to them, managing to raise a smile from Genevieve, who was stoically refusing to look in Emma's direction. Bling then checked on the injured Davies, who still lay unconscious.

"How's he doing?" Logan asked him quietly after he'd returned to Logan's side.

"Breathing seems okay. Just concussed, I hope." Bling looked across to the Hacketts, his face mirroring the concern that Logan felt. "We gotta get them outta here while we wait," he murmured in a low voice. "This is no place for little girls."

"One of the other buildings?" Logan suggested.

"I was thinking a car. They need warmth. We could all do with it."

"I got my keys here," said Logan at once, fishing them out of his soggy shirt pocket.

"And I've got Jaeger's from Max," smiled Bling.

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Max found the steady drumming of the rain on the roof of the car calming, almost soporific, particularly as Logan had the heating on high and the fan was blowing a steady stream of warm air onto her body.

Her thoughts drifted back to Emma. Seth's body would be cold by now. Only a matter of hours ago he'd sat in this car, worried for Emma. Would he have known this would be his last trip? She wondered if he could have had some presentiment of his own fate. In spite of herself, she shivered - a small almost imperceptible tremor that swept through her body.

"You still cold?" There was concern in Logan's voice as he looked across at her from the driver's seat. "I can put the fan on high."

Not wanting to see the concerned look she knew she'd find in his eyes, she simply shook her head and commented instead, "I wonder how the others're doing?"

Logan flipped the wipers on, and for brief intervals they could clearly make out Jaeger's black sedan parked in front of them where Bling had put the Hacketts to await Matt's arrival.

Logan had toyed with the idea of them all simply heading back into Seattle once they were in the cars, but he hadn't wanted to get Matt into any further trouble, so they had waited, like dutiful citizens, at the crime scene.

Emma had still refused to budge from Seth's side, so Bling had offered to wait with her and keep an eye on the still unconscious Davies.

"Hopefully the kids have fallen asleep," remarked Logan, staring through the windshield.

Max could sense his hesitation. She knew she must have been throwing off some weird vibes. "What?" she asked, not meaning to sound as abrupt as she had.

"What happened to Seth?"

Max's eyes narrowed slightly as she thought back to the events in the mine. Could she have done anything...changed anything? She felt bad about Seth's death, but her Manticore training taught her to analyse without emotion. No. There was nothing she could have done. The die had been cast well before she'd arrived on the scene.

"I could hear everyone yelling at Jaeger that they didn't know where Grant had hidden the money. They were screaming ... crazy like. He must've had the gun on them even then. Just as I reached them, I saw him turn his gun on Seth and fire."

"Why?" asked Logan, shocked by the man's ruthlessness.

"Some sort of sicko retaliation. I think he knew for sure by then that none of them could cough up the juice on where the money was. I guess he was just plain pissed off."

Logan frowned in disbelief. "He killed Seth outta... spite?"

Max shrugged.

"What about the explosion?"

"Jaeger went right off after that, completely whack. I called his bluff ..." Max looked across at Logan. "Guess he wasn't bluffing after all."

"Sorry about that. I tried to warn you."

Max looked unperturbed. "No harm done. We got outta there in one piece."

"One point is interesting, though," she added thoughtfully. "Jaeger had a line rigged to the saloon roof. He'd already planned his getaway," she told Logan with raised brows.

"You think he already knew about Old Seattle?"

"He was awfully prepared for someone who supposedly only just got the intel."

Logan shook his head in incredulity as he considered the significance of Max's words. "Maybe it was Jaeger who saw Grant in prison. After all, he's the one who was relaying information to Greville and Petrovsky."

"Could be he was dropping the dime on them all along - keeping the juiciest bits to himself."

Logan grimaced wryly. "Double crossing the double crosser. That sounds about par for the course when 4 million's at stake."

"It's getting kinda hard to pick who wins the Eyes Only 'Scumbag of the Week Award' in all this," Max said with mock seriousness.

"You said it," Logan agreed wholeheartedly, but almost immediately his thoughts sobered. "One thing I do know: Emma must be sorry she ever hooked up with Grant in the first place."

Max wanted to make a sassy, smart-assed comment, keep herself untouched by Emma's situation – but she'd seen those eyes, and already they haunted her every thought. How could you mess with someone's pain?

Uncharacteristically, she remained silent.

Logan looked across at her in the gloom of the car. He felt instinctively that something troubled her.

"You saved Monique," he offered her, remembering those few agonizing moments as he'd blurrily watched Max and Monique hanging from the guttering, his glasses smeared with rain.

"We both did," Max said quickly. "You're the one who found the girls in the first place. Looks like you had some opposition," she added, looking at the shiner already appearing high on his cheekbone.

"Naaah. I let Genevieve handle it," he drawled back lazily, closing his eyes and letting his head lean against the headrest.

They waited the rest of the time in silence. Logan was content to let the affects of the evening wash over him, hopefully to recede with no long-term lasting affects.

Max, on the other hand, watched Logan for a long time, her thoughts troubled. She wondered how long it took to forget a face. How long would it be for Emma before all memory of Seth was little more than a vague, intangible outline?

The rain continued to steadily fall. Max wasn't sure if Logan was asleep or not – or somewhere in that halfway state where dreams and reality blur. A couple of times he shifted his position, but his eyes remained closed.

At last, the glaring headlights of approaching cars lit up the interior of the Aztek.

Logan opened his eyes and looked through the rain-smeared window. "Looks like they're here."

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It was a striking dawn.

The heavy rain of the previous night had been wrung from clouds that were now tinged with the palest hint of watermelon as the first tendrils of sunlight reached out.

Max watched the beauty of the dawn as it rose over Seattle's towers of vanity and pride in what had once been the city's area of financial success. One hand held the mug of coffee that rested untouched on her drawn up knee as she sat on the window ledge in Logan's living room.

Sunrise never failed to fascinate her – there could be no transformation as complete as this one, but even as she watched the gradual lightening of the sky, the thought came to her that there would be no rays of brightness in Emma Belding's heart this morning. Possibly not ever.

Logan's voice droned quietly in the background as he spoke on the phone, sounding husky and strained with fatigue. He found the shower he'd taken as soon as they'd arrived back at the apartment hadn't totally removed the gritty tiredness from his eyes.

Once they'd returned to Seattle, they'd taken the silently staring Emma Belding and the girls and their parents to a good hotel where the manager was a trusted EO informant. Both Genevieve and Monique had been in a sound sleep – neither waking when Bling and their father had carried them into the expensive hotel.

It had been a long, difficult night – draining both physically and emotionally for all involved. Even Max had felt its effects, leaving her feeling somewhat lacklustre and lethargic. For the briefest of moments she closed her eyes and let her head rest on the window frame behind her. She was instantly drifting – not quite asleep but somehow separated from reality.

For a blissful moment she had the highly pleasant sensation of lightly floating, until eyes that were terrifyingly bleak stared back at her from the haziness of her mind.

Max's eyes snapped open and she immediately sat up straight, almost spilling her coffee in the process. She turned her head to find Logan coming towards her.

"How'd it go?" she asked him, barely noticing her coffee was almost cold as she took a hasty sip to cover her momentary unease.

Logan didn't seem to notice. His hands moved slowly as he manoeuvred his chair around the couch. Coming to a stop in front of her he eased his brakes on thoughtfully. "I got in touch with my guy. Should have some new IDs for the Hacketts and Emma by tomorrow."

"Poor Emma," murmured Max, almost in spite of herself.

"She wants to get everything for Seth done as quickly as possible," Logan said in a subdued voice.

"It's gonna be hard for her. I don't think she'll ever get over it," Max murmured again, staring distractedly at the polished wooden floor as she remembered Emma's grief-ravaged face.

"Well, she made her choice," Logan pointed out, not meaning to sound unsympathetic as he studied Max's troubled profile. "I guess she has to t'live with it."

Max's brown eyes suddenly flared with empathetic indignation.

"Yeah, well sometimes it isn't as easy as all that, Logan," she snapped unexpectedly. "Everything's not as black and white as_ you_ like to make it."

"I didn't say it was," he protested, surprised by her sudden vehemence. "But making choices is a part of life - it's what makes us the different species on this planet."

"Right," Max muttered cynically.

"Thing is you gotta count the cost –take responsibility for your actions."

Max's voice was bitter. "And what if you do your best and you think you've done the right thing, and it turns out you were wrong all along. What then?"

Logan narrowed his eyes a little at that, but he faced her squarely. "Then I guess you just hafta to learn to live with it," he informed her evenly, his voice tinged with the bleakness of experience.

Max looked away and Logan didn't know what else to tell her. He'd been taught life's lessons the hard way. Feeling a little jaded himself, he leant forward, letting his elbows rest on his knees.

He was right. Dammit, she knew he was right. But Emma Belding's face had told her with vivid clarity that the consequences could sometimes be too terrible to contemplate.

"_I don't wanna_..."

Max's words suddenly died as she looked wide-eyed at Logan with a frozen 'deer caught on the headlights' expression.

He had looked up quickly at her words and stared at her intently, his own thoughts suddenly confused. She looked like the kid found with her hand caught in the cookie jar.

Intuitively, he realized that she'd spoken her thought aloud. _I don't want to..._ what? The question made him feel intrigued _and_ nervous at the same time.

Max's dark, dark eyes locked with his green ones. His seemed to be daring her, compelling her to finish what she'd started.

_I don't wanna lose you...I don't wanna hurt you...I don't wanna be the one who looks up and says, 'It's my fault.'_

She opened her mouth...

"Logan...you just about ready?" Bling's voice carried clearly from the workout room.

Max closed her mouth, but Logan's gaze hadn't wavered from her face.

His eyes held hers – and she felt an almost hypnotic pull that was willing her to tell him the truth, share her fears, admit...

"I..."

"Logan!" Bling's voice shattered the silence.

Max stood up from the window with a startled manner.

For the briefest of moments, Logan closed his eyes with frustration, and by the time he'd opened them, she'd taken her cup across to the kitchen and he found himself alone. With the hint of a wry smile he ran a hand over the ever-present stubble on his cheek and breathed out slowly.

Max rinsed the cup under the faucet, a mechanical action as her emotions struggled with

whether she should feel relieved or disappointed. Somehow she felt both.

"He's all yours," she called to Bling as she turned the faucet off with a hard twist, hoping that Logan would take that to mean their discussion was finished and she could bolt out the door. That plan went slightly awry as she saw Logan now coming towards her.

She had no choice now but to wait for him.

"I oughtta go," she got out quickly. "OC must be running outta excuses for me by now."

"Right," he agreed, "And I gotta do some stuff with Bling," he added, nodding his head as he studied her with a thoughtful, almost quizzical manner.

"Make sure you get some sleep, huh," she told him gently. Then she was gone.

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Normal turned with exaggerated surprise when he saw Max wheel her bike down the ramp at Jam Pony.

"Well, well, well. So, you've decided to grace us with your presence, let us bask in the reflected glory of your dazzling personality...plunge us into..."

"You got a package for me, Normal, or are you just gonna stand there spouting crap?" Max asked, cutting short his ravings with a look of contempt.

"Yes, I have a package for you. In fact I have a whole mess of packages for you and if I see you back in here any later than...

"Great," snapped Max, to Normal's utter stupefaction.

He looked at her suspiciously. "Is this the part when you turn around and tell me you're not the real Max and I'm supposed to believe she was abducted by aliens who cloned her body and released mutated freaks throughout the city?"

Max looked at him with frank disgust. "Get off the grass, Normal. You high or somethin'? Just give me the packages."

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Logan scarcely noticed what Bling was doing with his legs as he sat on the workout table in his boxers, a deep frown furrowing his brow.

"These are looking good," his therapist murmured as he finished dressing both knees.

"Mmm," Logan murmured, head slightly turned, eyes intent on the ground.

"Of course falling beams don't do much for anyone," Bling continued dryly.

"Mm hmm," Logan murmured again distractedly.

Bling threw him a quick look. "Of course, they shouldn't need to keep you too long in the hospital."

Logan shot a sharp look at him. "What?"

"Just thought I'd get your attention - I was kinda bored talking to myself," Bling told him, pleased to get a response as he continued his examination. "And that cranky look you're giving me is more interesting than the vacant stare I was getting before."

"Funny," grunted Logan, wincing a little as Bling's probing hands found a tender spot high up on his back.

"Well, you seem to have got out of last night's scrape in more or less one piece," Bling told him as he moved his chair across to the edge of the table.

"Told you," Logan retorted as he lowered himself into it.

"Max okay about everything?" Bling asked casually, tossing Logan his T-shirt.

Logan paused the briefest moment before shrugging on his shirt. "What d'you mean?"

"I thought she seemed a little preoccupied since last night. Maybe she's taking Seth's death a little hard."

"I talked with her about that. She doesn't feel guilty about Seth's death," Logan told him, wondering why he felt so relieved that this was all Bling had meant.

"It wasn't guilt about Seth's death that I was thinking of," Bling countered, causing all Logan's unease to come flooding back.

"Bling, my mind's too tired for riddles," he snapped back testily.

"You don't think sometimes she doesn't wonder if she might end up like Emma?"

Logan grimaced for a moment, suddenly feeling very dense – _Zack! _ he thought with frustration. Trying not to let it show, he managed to get out evenly, "Her brother's done a pretty good job so far of dodging a Manticore bullet."

Bling just looked at him. "It wasn't her brother I was thinking of," he retorted meaningfully.

This time he really had Logan's attention.

The sound of his phone ringing had Logan spinning around quickly to answer it, thankful he could escape Bling's scrutiny. Matt Sung was on the other end.

"Logan. I got everything tied up back at the site."

"That's good, Matt."

"Listen...something else has come up. We need to meet."

Logan made a face. "Now? Can't we do this on the phone?"

"Not really. How soon can you make it?" Matt's voice came back.

Logan hesitated, but in the end, common sense won out for once. "Listen, I gotta get some sleep. We'll need to make it later, unless it's something urgent," he offered, thinking vaguely that Matt sounded a little distracted and ignoring the disapproving look Bling was giving him from across the way.

"No," Matt replied quickly. "This afternoon'll be fine."

"Okay – we'll make it 2 o'clock then," he agreed.

"And Logan," Matt added as he was about to hang up, "it might be a good idea if Bling comes with you."

Logan paused a beat. The last time Matt had suggested that, they'd found themselves facing a sniper.

"You in some kinda trouble, Matt?"

"No, nothing like that," the detective refuted quickly.

Feeling too tired to try and work out Matt's cryptic words, Logan simply acquiesced with a, "Fine," and left it at that.

Leaving Bling instructions to call him in four hours if he was still asleep, which he strongly doubted, he made his way to bed.

TBC

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	28. Epilogue, Part 2

Once again, thanks so much for the positive feedback. It's very encouraging and reassuring!

Huge thanks to Alaidh for the beta – it's very much appreciated!

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Chapter 28, Epilogue Part 2.

Max's day was busy, which suited her fine for once, as her mind was still in turmoil after her conversation with Logan.

_Responsibility's a bitch_, she'd said to Logan a few days back. _Well, here's a new one – Caring's a bitch, too, _she decided as she walked back down the front steps of the house she'd delivered her first package to.

And she had to admit she cared – and it was entirely his fault, she thought furiously, riding her bike at a speed to match as she dodged potholes and garbage and cars and mongrel dogs and sector cops and people ambling across the crowded laneways in front of her. She'd never wanted to care – had certainly never asked for it. Her one task in life had been to hook up with Zack and the others. She'd been focussed and everything in her life had been uncomplicated. How had she ever managed to be distracted by a scruffy face and smooth words?

_I mean, it's not as if he takes any care in his appearance – he shaves maybe every third day, if that, and he doesn't even bother to comb his hair,_ she reminded herself as she stopped outside a seedy-looking apartment block.

_And then there's the way he's always right_. _That's just plain wrong. And it's wrong when _he's_ wrong that he apologizes in a way that makes me feel like somehow it's actually _me_ who was wrong in the first place. How whack is that_, she muttered as she wheeled her bike along a long hallway covered in threadbare carpet to number 15, her usually smooth brow furrowed in a frown.

_And then there's those damn hands of_ _his _...

"Jam Pony Messenger"

..._No X5 was ever made with hands as perfect as that!_ _Is it surgeons who are meant t' have beautiful hands? Sensitive or some such crap. Maybe he shoulda been one of those piano virtuosos! I guess he kinda plays the keyboard_, she mused distractedly as she trudged back down her fourth flight of stairs for the morning and unlocked her bike once more, her mind drifting to the times she'd watched him writing. _Damn, I even like his handwriting, and according to OC, everyone knows that most men can never put a legible scrawl together..._

"You touch my bike while I'm gone and I'll kick your ass!"

..._Which is true because his **is** kinda like chicken scratch._

Suddenly she paused in the act of locking up her bike, screwing up her face with a kind of disgusted amazement. _You are** so** losing it, Max, _she berated herself as she trod up the steps of yet another rundown house whose steps were covered with meowing bedraggled cats.

"Jam Pony Messenger, sir." _What is that smell? _"Yes, it's a fine day. No, I'm not interested in stepping inside and seeing your Smurf collection. Sign here please."

Her smile was pure artificial sweetener. "ThankyouforusingJamPony."

_And even if I managed to ignore all those other things, there's still that mouth that really shouldn't smile in a way that makes you feel as if he'd never smiled at anyone else quite that way before. I mean, the man's been married, after all, and is it right that a smile should make me feel kinda, I dunno, sorta all tingly like that? And as if that isn't bad enough, his eyes are worse than any truth serum Manticore could come up with – how is it he gets me to say all kinda things about myself that I have absolutely no intention of sharing and yet he manages to keep mosta his stuff under lock and key?_

"_Damn you, Logan Cale,"_ she muttered for the hundredth time. _Where did my uncomplicated life go? And even worse – I don't even want it back! And now what do I do? I don't wanna be like Emma – I don't wanna say he's dead and it's my fault._

_But he's so damned good at getting himself into trouble_, a voice whispered inside her head.

_Tell me about it! Bronck, Sonrisa, John Darius – damn, any crank in town'd turn him in for the reward money, not to mention all the ones I don't even know about who want him dead for other reasons, and he doesn't do anything remotely resembling commonsense - Look at when he came and rescued me when the Reds had me and OC. Damn, he comes charging in with two hands and a gun. What was he thinking? _

"Finally," she said aloud as she picked her way through an assortment of trikes and children's ride-on toys that blocked the path of a rather genteel looking house. "One more drop before lunch – a very late lunch."

"Package for you from Jam Pony!"

_Well, he had your back on that one, Max. He zapped that metal gizmo. It's not as if he relies on you to come running in and save the day every time! _

_Remember Cape Haven,_ another other voice reminded her?

_Well, I do hafta admit, we make a great team. Kinda screwy, but it seems t'work_.

At that point her eyes lighted on a hearse that was slowly making its way to a cemetery somewhere out of town. Seeing one was almost an everyday occurrence in post-pulse Seattle, but today it was more real.

For a moment the brilliance in the dark eyes dulled. _That'll be Seth soon - buried or barbecued, but either way irrevocably dead_. She stopped her bike and stared at the mournful sight intently.

_What're the odds of me gettin' Logan jammed up or maybe even worse, just because he knows me?_

A cold, faraway look crossed her features – she knew exactly what they'd do.

_Classic Manticore MO, Max, and you know it. He wouldn't stand a chance if they sent one of the other X5s to grab him. If Lydecker figured out our connection he wouldn't even wait to stir his coffee before using Logan as a lever to get me back... Just like the Reds used Cindy. _

Max suddenly stood stock still in the middle of the sidewalk, scarcely seeing the hearse as it slowly disappeared further and further up the road.

"Admit it, Max, you're no better than Emma Belding," she murmured painfully as she stared ahead.

"Hey, lady! You're blocking my way!"

"Bite me!" Max shot back with such a venomous expression that the man quickly hurried around her without daring to lift his head.

Max looked about her, almost surprised to find where she was and that all her packages had been delivered. Time to head back for lunch, she supposed unenthusiastically. Her head ached, her legs felt tired and her heart seemed to have fallen into a crack in the sidewalk.

Logan's words came back to her as she waited to cross at the lights, barely aware of the teeming traffic around her, people shouting out to each other, a sector cop screaming something through a loud speaker and a hundred other sounds that filled Seattle's street life.

_Thing is you gotta count the cost – take responsibility for your actions._

_You make it all sound so damned easy, Logan_, she complained. _But it's not._

"Max!"

Max looked up to see Original Cindy staring at her. "You been on a hot run, boo? I don't recall seeing you this morning...but then I'm particularly stoopid when I've stayed up most a the night wondering where my homegirl's at."

Max looked repentant. "I'm sorry OC. Something real important came up."

"That important _something_ wouldn't have anything to do with an important_ someone_ now, would it?"

"It was just some stuff I had to do for Logan," Max told her best friend dully.

"You stay at yer boy's place, boo?"

"Not exactly," Max said a little defensively.

"So, what'd you two get up to this weekend?" OC continued suspiciously.

Max wrinkled her nose as if the whole thought was distasteful to her. "We didn't get up to _anything_."

OC raised an unbelieving eyebrow, but Max chose to ignore it as they both wheeled their bikes into a bedraggled area that had once been called a park. "What did you do with your weekend?" she was about to ask as she went to sit down on a surprisingly intact park bench, but her words died on her lips.

"What is it?" asked OC, following her friend's startled gaze.

"What is_ that_?" Max almost choked getting out the words.

Original Cindy looked across to the graffiti covered wall that Max indicated. "Looks like a whole lotta the usual BS t'me," was the blunt reply.

But Max was only looking at one 'particular' BS. A red, white and blue mask with a pair of green eyes quite skilfully painted onto the wall. Only instead of the words Eyes Only below it – the word 'only' had been crossed out and instead it now read 'Sexy Eyes.'

For the strangest moment she felt as though her very private world had been invaded.

"Whatchou lookin' at, boo?" asked Cindy, unconcernedly biting into her sandwich.

"Since when did Eyes Only have a fan club?" she asked in a disapproving voice.

OC looked across at her. "You tellin' me you don't find those eyes sexy? Dammit girl, seems to me you must be the only red-blooded female in Seattle who doesn't think so. Even some a my peeps on the all-girl team have taken to scribblin' Eyes Only stuff on tidy bowl walls," she added wryly with a shake of her head.

"You gotta be kidding me, right?" asked Max, more than a little dismayed.

"Boo, you must walk around with your eyes closed!"

Max slowly took her drink out of her bag. She couldn't explain it, but she suddenly felt very territorial. After all, Logan only used his eyes to hide his identity so that every scumbag in Seattle he exposed wouldn't come after him.

"I hardly think Eyes Only was attempting to attract the entire female population of Seattle," she announced sounding unusually pompous.

"Which is _exactly_ why he _does_," Cindy announced positively. "Believe me, most girly girls love ta catch a man who doesn't wanna be caught."

Max shook her head in amazement. She thought she'd heard _all_ the 411 on Eyes Only at Crash. "You've heard other women talk about his eyes being sexy?"

OC laughed at that. "Sugah, they's talkin' about a whole lot more than his eyes!"

Max stood up suddenly.

"I gotta blaze."

---------------------------------------------------------------

The cosy, small pub where Logan had arranged to meet Matt was reasonably busy late in the afternoon. Those who left work early for the day had already taken up their usual places at the bar, but there were still a few vacant tables to be had.

Logan and Bling made their way through the, as yet, only light smoky haze to the more dimly lit back where Matt Sung was waiting at one of the small round tables. Three bottles of beer sat in front of him.

"Hey, Matt. Sorry I'm nearly fifteen minutes late," Logan excused himself with a dark look at Bling from under his lashes as he nudged his chair under the table and set his brakes.

"My fault," Bling confessed lightly. "I made an executive decision that six hours sleep would be better than four."

Matt was immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry, man. I should have thought that one through better."

Logan shook his head. "It's fine, Matt. So, what've you got for me?"

Matt's voice immediately dropped to a deeper note and he leaned forward seriously. "I wrapped up everything at Old Seattle. You were right – the ex-cons Jaeger had working for him told me he'd planned the trip out to the tourist town at least a week ago, as far as they knew."

Logan nodded. He'd expected as much.

"The FBI's real keen to keep this under wraps," Matt continued pointedly.

"Well, it's bad for business if it gets out that one of your own is workin' for the other guy."

"Right."

"Eyes Only has a plan for Emma and the Hackett family. Strangely enough it doesn't involve the Witness Protection Program," he added dryly.

Matt looked a bit uneasy at that, but said nothing, quickly picking up his beer and taking a swig instead.

"About Seth..." Logan murmured.

"All cool. The body will be released in a few hours. Emma can go ahead and make her arrangements."

Logan nodded slowly. "I spoke to her on the phone before we came here. She just wants a private cremation. She plans to get outta Seattle – make a fresh start somewhere new I guess."

Almost in unison all three looked down at the beers they held in their hands. No one had been unaffected by Emma's grief.

"There's one more thing, Matt," said Logan, after taking a swig of his beer. "Emma's roommate had some sketches that she'd done - sketches of hands. Someone – either working for Jaeger or Petrovsky - broke into her apartment and stole them. I know she'd really like to get 'em back."

Matt nodded. "I'll keep an eye out for them."

"Thanks, I'd appreciate it. There could be a lot riding on it," he added cryptically.

A look of amusement crossed Bling's face. "You doin' this for Charlie's sake or your own," he laughed a little, knowing what it was Logan had agreed to do.

"Logan...There is one other thing."

Logan raised his eyebrows enquiringly. Something in Matt's tone of voice made Logan look across at him carefully. The detective appeared to be particularly ill at ease, which was unusual for him.

Matt cast a quick look at Bling before taking another swig of his drink. If Logan hadn't known Matt better he almost would have thought the detective was seeking some Dutch courage.

"The FBI has been onto Jaeger for some time. It appears the man has been playing both sides for quite awhile," Matt said quietly.

Matt had Logan's complete attention now. The hands that had been idly twirling the beer bottle in front of him stilled and the green eyes behind the small glasses stared at Matt Sung with an intent look that the detective found almost uncomfortable.

"Just how long is 'quite awhile'," Logan asked evenly, but the tone of his voice was deep and husky and intense.

Matt hesitated for a moment, casting a quick look in Bling's direction, before continuing. "My source at the FBI tells me that Jaeger was in bed with everyone from the Russians, to the Mob to any number of private concerns..."

Logan nodded. He felt suddenly cold – an icy cold that seemed to make its way up from somewhere in his chest and spread to his mind.

Matt seemed reluctant to proceed, as if he were hoping his listener would understand his meaning before he had to put it into actual words.

Logan wanted to help Matt, but his paralysis seemed to have inexplicably spread to his vocal chords – and for an instant he felt the same apprehension he had the morning when they'd finally allowed him to wake from the drug induced sleep they'd initially kept him in. The first words he'd been aware of were Sam's words – caring, sincere, and above all kind: "Logan, I've got some bad news." Instinctively he'd known then that he didn't want to hear what Sam had to say – just as he didn't want to hear Matt's words now.

"...including Edgar Sonrisa," Matt eventually got out.

Speaking quickly for Logan's sake, he continued, "My guy's almost positive that it was Jaeger who leaked the information to Sonrisa about your arrangements to get Lauren and Sophy into Witness Protection."

Logan was staring at the bottle now. Somewhere his eyes registered the fact that the writing was green and gold, that there was a cigarette burn in the table, and that Matt and Bling were waiting for his response.

"Well...it makes sense, doesn't it," he answered rhetorically, lifting eyes to their faces that were steely hard, yet glittered strangely in the dimly lit bar.

"I thought you'd want to know," offered Matt quietly.

"Right," agreed Logan, perhaps a little too quickly, a little too heartily for Bling's peace of mind as he noted the sudden look of strain on Logan's face.

"Not that it makes any difference now that the man's dead, of course," Matt added with a quick, uneasy glance at Bling. "Anyway, if Eyes Only wants any further details, I can get them for him."

The narrowing of his eyes told Bling a lot – the harshness, sense of finality in the quietly uttered words told him even more. "No. That won't be necessary. Eyes Only has no further interest in that case."

"Well, if you ever ..." began Matt, but Logan was already releasing his brakes and backing away from the table.

"Its fine, Matt. Thanks for the drink."

Matt simply nodded. He could recognize a lockout.

Logan turned. His voice and demeanour may have appeared calm, but everything inside him was screaming to get out of there and all he could see was a sea of chairs and tables blocking his way, carelessly scattered as people had used them.

"Bling." His voice was sharp now, clearly annoyed - unusually more like a command than a request.

In a smooth movement, Bling was up and clearing a pathway to the door and then they were outside in the mild, afternoon sunlight. He followed Logan silently around the corner to the grotty side street where Bling had parked the car.

Bling went to get his keys out, but Logan snapped, "I'll drive."

Bling hesitated, not sure if this was such a good idea for Logan right now.

"Thought your shoulders were too sore after the workout you gave them yesterday," he tried in a mild voice.

"Well, I just hafta put up with it, don't I, like everything else," retorted Logan, even as he spoke, schooling his features to hide any feelings of discomfort as he transferred. "I got it," he added quickly as Bling would have taken his chair to the back.

Bling waved a hand in his direction. "Knock yourself out."

He watched wordlessly as Logan put his seatbelt on then determinedly set about dismantling his chair and stowing it in the car.

Bling continued to remain silent until Logan had the car travelling with the late afternoon traffic.

"That's some pretty heavy info Matt laid on you back there."

"Depends how you look at it," Logan replied curtly, his eyes in the rear-view mirror as he concentrated on changing lanes.

"The guy sold you out. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Bling, the man's dead," Logan pointed out, his voice tight with sarcasm.

"Doesn't mean it hasn't got to you a little."

The traffic light turned red and Logan obediently slowed to a stop.

Bling looked across at his stern profile. "Logan. It's _okay_ for something like this to get to you a little."

Logan stared ahead intently. "I'm Eyes Only," he told his trainer almost a touch self-righteously. "I can't let things like this affect me."

"Yeah? Or maybe it's _because_ they get to you that you're Eyes Only."

Logan merely shrugged as if he were completely unmoved by his friends words. "Whatever."

Bling pursed his lips with frustration and turned his head to look out the passenger window. His eyes took in the familiar street, and even as Logan spoke, he suddenly realized what he was up to.

"I'll drop you off at your place. I got a few things to do."

Bling studied the set profile once more, wondering if it would be any good to force the issue – the tension emanating from Logan was palpable, for all his 'I'm not affected' line.

"Maybe you could talk to Max?" he suggested in the end.

Logan rolled his eyes at that as he pulled up outside Bling's apartment block.

"Here you go," he murmured tersely.

Bling nodded his head with a wry smile. He'd been outplayed by the master.

"I'll be around tonight. We got your reps to do."

"Can't wait," was Logan's sarcastic comment as Bling got out.

"Watch the transfers," Bling adjured him before he closed the door.

Receiving no reply, Bling shook his head a little, watching with a look of concern as the Aztek pulled out and merged with the traffic once more.

"Hope you know what you're doing," he muttered before resignedly turning and entering his apartment building.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Max raced to the first phone she could find and dialled Logan's number.

"You reached the number you dialled."

Max hesitated. She wondered if Logan was still asleep, but then she realized if Bling was there he'd usually pick up if Logan was unavailable.

"Hey, Logan, it's me..."

That was as far as she got as the ludicrous nature of her phone call dawned on her.

_What are you doing, Max? One minute you think you oughtta get out of Seattle in case you stuff up his life and now you're playin' 'Supermax' to protect him from some peeps who think he has sexy eyes?_

"Just callin' to see how you're doin," she finished lamely into the answering machine.

Feeling remarkably stupid she smacked her forehead once on the brick wall next to the phone...hard – then let it rest there.

_Dammit, Max! You gonna come rushing back every time someone doodles something on a toilet wall about him? What are you thinking?_

_I know what you're thinking,_ murmured that other voice inside her head, you_ don't want anyone else to be admiring his eyes, or his mouth, or his hands or..._

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get the message," she snapped aloud, ignoring the suspicious stare of an elderly lady who walked past at that moment.

_Truth is, Max...you can't leave him_," said the voice.

"I know I can't," she admitted, whispering dully.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Logan drove in a complete fog, scarcely aware of where he was, or whether the lights were red or green, or how many other cars were on the road or even what he was thinking about. He was only aware of the vague sensation that he was thankfully alone - his thought process went little further than that.

He managed to maintain this state of affairs for a good twenty minutes, driving aimlessly through the late afternoon traffic. He didn't know where he was going – he just knew he didn't want to go home. He didn't trust himself in the quiet of his apartment, where it would be impossible to escape the thoughts, and he knew he'd be drawn to the windows and his mind would be swamped with an avalanche of memories that he had tried rigorously, and for the most part successfully, to repress.

He was never entirely sure how he got there – all he knew was that at one point he looked out the window – really looked – and to his surprise he recognized the Superior Court Building.

He drove on past it, then on a bit further, to the intersection with the office block on the corner and the small cafes that cater to the office workers in the area. Then he was there – the place he'd avoided all these months.

He told himself that it hadn't been a conscious decision that he'd avoided the area – _yeah, right Logan_ – he'd simply had no desire whatsoever to come here. It was ironic, he mused, that today of all days, his aimless meandering should lead him to this spot.

It all looked surprisingly as he'd remembered. He and Peter had travelled the route several times before the final run. Peter had been fanatical about planning and he'd had all sorts of rules on what should be done and how, and statistically what the risks were and the likelihood of a mission's success in any given situation. He'd grilled Logan on what he was to do should he face certain scenarios, and Logan had listened as he always did to what he sometimes considered Peter's overly cautious advice, and even though his stomach was churning with, what he had to admit was fear, he wildly hoped he'd never have to act on any of them. Which, when he considered it now, was strange, as he had had no delusions about what they were attempting to do. Peter had warned him that the odds weren't good. Everything had relied on total secrecy – but it was a well-known fact that, between them, Sonrisa and Steckler had the law enforcement agencies nice and secure in their pockets. But, heck, he was the good guy after all – and good always triumphs...right?

Logan pulled up alongside the curb. For a moment he hesitated before letting his window down. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to do this. It wasn't as if it was going to prove or change anything. He wondered idly if Bling would think his being here was a healthy sign.

_Sometimes you gotta scream a little._

Well, screaming had never been his style, he countered coldly as his eyes took in his surroundings. Outwardly excessive displays of emotion had been considered bad form in his father's eyes – unmanly... attention drawing for all the wrong reasons.

By the time the first car rammed them, Logan knew without doubt that the game was up – Peter had pulled him aside and warned him the night before, "Logan, if they're able to stop the cars we're screwed."

Of course, he'd still hoped...even as he scrambled out of the car. The strange thing was it had all happened so quickly, he hadn't even had time to be consciously fearful for himself – his only desperate thought had been to get the child away. He'd opened the door and pulled the terrified child from the car, then as he'd turned, he'd seen one of Sonrisa's men with a gun and instinctively he'd fired and he'd even felt a sick surge of elation as the man had gone down and for the first time he began to think there was a chance.

How many steps had he taken after that - two, maybe three at the most?

He was surprised how unemotional he felt about it all now. Did it really happen to him...right here? He wondered what he was supposed to be feeling. Was all this meant to be some major cathartic experience?

He looked away suddenly, absently studying the instrument panel.

So it had been Jaeger – he'd been the nameless informer - an FBI agent who'd sold out his ideals for blood-soaked money.

He'd known, once he'd had his wits about him again, that there had to have been a leak in Witness Protection, but he didn't see how he would ever find out who it was and Eyes Only had never been about revenge. So, like a lot of things, he'd just...let it slide.

He'd certainly never expected to be face to face with the man who'd indirectly been responsible for so much

When Matt Sung's words had finally soaked in, he had to admit he'd felt totally unprepared for such a revelation. It was so weird – he'd thought, with Bruno's certain death, that it was all behind him. Life had gone on and he'd done his best to focus his thoughts firmly in the present and that was how he wanted it to stay.

Had he been bitter when he'd met Bruno Anselmo – he'd told himself he wasn't, that his only interest was in 'destroying the disease', but his words to Bling had betrayed him when his therapist had asked how he'd gotten hold of the hoverdrone footage.

_Money – what else have I got?_

For a long time he'd felt like that. It was hard having so much stripped away and finding that maybe you didn't even like the person you found underneath.

Making a sudden decision, he opened his car door. There was virtually no traffic - everyone had left this part of town for the evening. In under a minute he had his chair assembled and waiting on the road for him to slide into. His eyes rested on it as he undid his seatbelt, and for the briefest of moments a tidal wave of regret and frustration and anger swept over him. The other Logan had been able to stretch out his long legs and jump out of the car in seconds. He didn't need to bother about ...

Don't go there, Logan," he warned himself quickly, with well-practised efficiency tightly reining in his wayward thoughts and bringing them back under control.

Once he was in the chair he looked about a little vaguely.

_What now?_ he wondered dryly.

From watching the hoverdrone footage, he could pinpoint exactly the spot where he'd fallen. This end of town was virtually deserted this time of night – rush hour had finished, the office workers had left for the day, and the area would be briefly abandoned until those still brave enough to roam the streets at night came out.

Checking for traffic he wheeled out into the intersection. A sardonic grin crossed his face as he considered the supreme irony if he should be hit by a car in the same spot.

Well, there it was. No X marked the spot; there was no ominous faded bloodstain, no sudden crash of thunder boomed from the sky and there was no tense orchestral arrangement that told the viewer something profound had happened. The only thing he was aware of was a cool breeze that whipped at his clothes, and from somewhere up high a few birds twittered at him almost mockingly.

Logan stared pensively for a few moments at the area on the road where he'd been shot, where he'd hit with such finality when the bullet took him.

Sucking deeply he drew a long breath into his lungs – then let it out through his mouth with a quick whoosh.

Maybe his mom had been right – Bruno was dead, Jaeger was dead, and here he sat...very much alive.

Logan looked up as he heard an approaching car somewhere in the distance, then thoughtfully swung his chair around and wheeled back to the Aztek.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was well and truly dark by the time he finally pulled into his parking spot. A quick glance at the fuel gauge told him he was nearly on empty, which would mean a long wait for Bling in the gas line - for the first time that afternoon he felt a little guilty that he'd been so self-indulgent.

He picked up his cell phone from the passenger seat and turned it on. As he expected, there were quite a few messages waiting for him. Bling would have been calling him, he supposed tiredly. His conscience pricked him a little that the man had probably been worried about him.

Feeling drained and kind of like his body wasn't his own, Logan turned the doorknob to his apartment – not surprised to find it unlocked. He wondered if he should apologise to his trainer.

"Logan."

He looked at her in total surprise. On top of everything else that had gone on that afternoon, always at the back of his mind had been the frightened look he'd seen in her eyes as dawn had washed over them both.

He'd never seen her look frightened before and it had shaken him more than he wanted to acknowledge. He knew what Bling had been trying to intimate – he just hadn't wanted to believe it. All day, he now realised, hidden deeply at the back of his mind, had been a bitter fear that maybe she wouldn't come back.

"Hey," he managed to get out.

"You okay?"

He just looked at her, wondering what it was he was meant to be okay about. Unless...

"Bling told me," she explained quickly, seeing his hesitation.

She thought she saw a flare of annoyance in his eyes as he wheeled through to his living room, so she added quickly, "You weren't answering your phone. He was really worried about you."

"Well, I guess that's what I pay him for – there aren't too many others lined up in that department." He didn't know why he said that – maybe because he was tired or frustrated, or maybe because he felt bitter and afraid she might leave because of her concern for him, but for whatever reason he wanted to lash out at someone.

Max saw the hurt in his eyes and, almost before she knew it, two sincere words had forced their way out of her mouth. "_I _worry."

His response wasn't what she'd expected. His eyes suddenly hardened, and she was aware of a sudden tensing in his shoulders and hands. "You're the only one I _don't_ want to worry about me," he said in a voice deep with emotion.

"It's what friends do. If I've learnt one thing... it's that friends need to be there for each other." Max said the words slowly, her eyes never leaving his face.

He seemed to stare at her for the longest time, until a small sassy smile lifted the corners of Max's mouth.

"So," she said, almost provocatively, "whatdya know, Bruno Anselmo and Special Agent Jaeger _both_ got their just desserts."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Looks that way," he said in that dry tone of his that she loved.

"We should celebrate."

He leaned back and looked up at her, a small quizzical smile lighting up his face.

"Well," she grinned, "Maybe the universe is right on schedule after all."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

TBC

Nearly there – one more chapter to go!


	29. Epilogue, part 3

Thank you so much for your encouraging words!

Humungous thanks to Alaidh for all her work on this chapter!

**A/N:** Lee, I forgot to thank you for your suggestion as to a future storyline. You definitely have me thinking!

--------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 29, Epilogue Part 3

"I bet the kids are excited about taking a holiday with their folks," Max remarked to Logan as the car wound around yet another bend on the way up to his uncle's cabin.

"Oh yeah," smiled Logan. "It was all they could talk about when Bling and I dropped the car off yesterday."

"Wow! You bought them a new car," murmured Max, not entirely joking.

"Well – an 'old' new car," Logan countered quickly. "They had to have something to drive to Canada in," he explained lightly as an excuse for his actions.

"I don't remember you offering to buy _me_ a car when I was going to Canada," she complained mildly.

"Well, that was a rush job. You just didn't give me enough time," he told her smoothly, unconsciously taking a quick look at her face. _And I didn't want you to go._

"I didn't wanna go, anyway..." Max told him, idly stretching her arms out in front of her. "Too cold."

She felt surprisingly relaxed and happy as they travelled the familiar road: no Sibelius, no moody Zack, no seriously ill Logan. Yep, life was good. Of course, if she'd let her fears run away with her, it might've been her leaving with the Hackett's as well.

_Max, you're turning into a scaredy cat._

She still hadn't totally resolved the issue in her mind about her presence putting Logan in danger, but, _Hey_, she'd decided, _there's a heap of questions I don't have answers to._

Logan had smiled a little at her words, then said seriously, "I hope Emma'll be happy there – or wherever she ends up going."

"You couldn't talk her into staying then?"

"Nope. She's taken her brother's death hard...wouldn't even speak to Martin."

"Was he heartbroken?" she asked cynically.

"I don't think I'd quite describe him as heartbroken - repentant, maybe..." suggested Logan, instead, thinking back to his cousin's visit the day before.

Martin had been unusually subdued when Bling had shown him into where Logan was seated on the couch, laptop on his knee.

"So, how'd it go?" Logan asked him, already guessing the answer as he closed his laptop.

"She wouldn't see me," Martin replied, looking particularly downcast as he stood in front of Logan.

"She doesn't blame you for what happened, Martin," Logan told him mildly.

Martin nodded absently, thrusting his hands into his coat pocket as he began to pace back and forth.

"What about you, Logan? What do you think?" Martin suddenly asked abruptly.

Logan looked up at him, quite puzzled by this outburst. "Whaddyou care what I think?"

Martin stopped pacing and looked down at his cousin for a moment. "I dunno," he mumbled self-consciously, "I've always cared what you think."

This was news to Logan. "Am I missing something here?" he queried ironically.

Martin reddened.

Speaking as if his throat was suddenly constricted, Martin mumbled, "You know, I was always kind of jealous of you. You were the one all the girls wanted to hang out with."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "This is all news to me."

Martin shrugged. "Then I had Dad on my back about why wasn't I like you and Bennett."

"Now I_ know_ I'm missing something," Logan said sarcastically.

"You know how Dad raves. You and Bennett had both graduated and I..."

"Ahh, now I understand. It was the '_even Logan has graduated'_ comment," he broke in with wry amusement.

Martin had the grace to blush. "Something like that," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

"It does sound more like the Jonas I know."

Logan studied his cousin for a moment as Martin stared at the ground, apparently lost in his own thoughts. Logan was surprised to note that he seemed to have aged the past week, but the thought came to him that perhaps it was more a mental rather than a physical change.

"I'm thinking of leaving Seattle, myself," Martin said in the same abrupt manner as before.

"Why?" asked Logan, a little surprised, although he could think of any number of reasons why his cousin would want to run away, as it were.

"_You_ have to ask me, _why_?" Martin reiterated bitterly. "Try for starters I stole Cale funds, then I got you involved in my mess and almost got you killed! Not to mention my dealings with Emma and my stupidity in going to that damned Russian casino in the first place. I must have been out of my mind!" he cried out. His pacing led him to the windows and he now stared out bitterly at the Seattle skyline.

"Firstly, you didn't _make_ me do anything, and frankly, seeing those two kids with their folks again is worth anything _I_ went through," Logan told him calmly, half glancing behind to the windows where he assumed Martin was standing.

Martin's voice came back to him, full of self-contempt. "No, Max was right. I've been a selfish jerk throughout this whole mess."

Logan smiled a little at that. "Max does have a way with words."

When Martin didn't reply after a few moments, Logan put his laptop down and swung himself back into his chair. When he looked up he found Martin had turned from the windows and was watching him. Logan returned his gaze with a contemplative one of his own as he released his brakes and positioned himself so that he and Martin were face to face.

"Let's say Max is even half right. So what? You screwed up a little. We've all been there...done that."

Martin went to open his mouth, but Logan added with a wry grin, "Besides, it'd be a pity if you left now just when you're starting to show a little sense."

Martin looked doubtful. "You really think I should stay?"

"Well, I know Aunt Margo would be upset if you left, and I wouldn't be able to test out a theory I have."

Martin looked at him warily.

"Well, I figure I can still beat you at hoops, even in this thing," Logan told him with the hint of battle in his eyes as his hands suggestively tapped both wheels of his chair.

Martin smiled his first genuine smile in weeks. "You're on," he grinned. He held Logan's gaze for a moment as if he were seeing his cousin in a new light then said a little awkwardly, "I gotta go."

Logan followed him to the door, but they were only halfway there when Martin stopped and turned around, forcing Logan to stop abruptly as well.

Martin looked particularly uneasy, as he licked his dry lips as if he was steeling himself for something unpleasant.

"Logan, you're probably not gonna want to hear this," he warned his cousin bravely, "but you've been really good to me and I just think I should say this to you before I go."

He stopped for breath, looking at Logan apprehensively, but seeing only a mildly surprised expression on his cousin's face, he grabbed hold of his rapidly fading bravado and got out quickly, "You know Logan, you're crazy if you think the chair changes anything to anyone. Leastways not to anyone important," he added with meaning. Then, a little amazed at his daring, he headed to the door before his cousin had a chance to reply, leaving Logan to stare after him thoughtfully.

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"So, we're headin' up to your uncle's cabin again."

Max had murmured the words a little absently as they'd headed out of Seattle. She then very briefly contemplated going down the 'remember when' path with Logan, but when her first 'remember when' principally involved the intense pressure of his lips and the way his hands had caressed the back of her neck and head as she'd quite insanely pressed her lips to his, she swiftly changed tack mid-thought and managed to clamp her mouth shut with lightning speed.

"Weather looks sweet," she remarked instead, cringing at how lame it sounded.

As they drove up the gravel driveway to the cabin, she felt her temperature rise once more as the incident came rushing back to her. Trying not to echo the weirdness of that day, Max barely gave Logan time to stop before she had her door open. Leaving him while he set up his chair, she strode over to the Hackett's car that had pulled in almost immediately after them and headed to the trunk to start unpacking their luggage.

Genevieve and Monique were the first to scramble out.

"Wow, look at the lake!" Genevieve enthused as she looked about with glowing eyes. "Logan, this is so cool!" she called across to him as he transferred.

"Can I swim, Mommy?" Monique asked at once, her eyes saucer-like as she looked at the wide expanse of water.

"It would be too cold this time of year," her mother told them both firmly.

"Yep, freezing," Logan agreed, catching the tail end of their conversation as he wheeled over to where they stood near the front steps. "It's a beautiful spot, Logan," Sharon Hackett remarked as she looked around admiringly.

"Plenty of fish in the lake," Logan smiled across to Brad, who was now following Max from the car with a suitcase in either hand.

"How can we thank you for all this," the girls' father said quietly. "A car...a holiday...job arrangements in Canada..."

Max could see Logan was clearly embarrassed by the thanks, but he answered calmly enough as he took the key out of his jacket pocket. "Well, these are tough times. Everyone can do with a little help."

"Logan. Take me to the water," Monique demanded imperiously. She grabbed the hand that was resting on his leg and none-too-subtly placed it on his wheel so that he'd start moving. "C'mon, Lowwwwwgan," she harassed him.

"Monique, say _please_," Genevieve reminded her yet again, while her dark-haired mother looked distinctly embarrassed by the wayward behaviour of her three year old.

"Its fine," Logan assured her unperturbed before turning to Max. "If you'll take Brad and Sharon inside and show them around, I'll take the girls down to the lake. If that's okay with you," he added to Sharon Hackett.

"You don't have to do that," she protested at once, a little unsure as to whether he was merely being polite.

"Nope, I want to," he told her as he swung around to face the lake.

Sharon Hackett smiled her agreement, and after a quick warning to her children to do what they were told, she followed her husband and Max up the steps.

----------------------------------------------------------

Logan followed the girls along the gravel driveway down to the water's edge. It felt a little strange being down by the lake for the first time since the shooting. The huge pine trees that crowded at the back of the cabin and towered above the banks of the lake seemed suddenly much bigger from his lower perspective, and for a brief moment he saw in his mind a young, gangly kid with glasses running down this same path.

Looking ahead to his charges, he could see Genevieve only a few feet in front of him, but Monique was, not unusually, racing ahead.

"Hey, slow down," he called to her.

"I'll get her, Logan," Genevieve called over her shoulder, happy to have an excuse to run forward.

Logan took his eyes off the girls for a moment and looked at the wide expanse of water in front of him. He was surprised to find that he really h_ad_ forgotten how beautiful the lake was. A dense forest of mostly evergreens lined the lake on three sides, and behind that, heavily wooded mountains, draped with wisps of clouds, formed a perfect backdrop. He was glad it was too cold for swimming - the water was shallow near the edges, but it was dangerously deep out in the middle.

Genevieve looked at the water longingly, Monique's small hand clasped in her own.

"Can we wade in a little, Logan?" she asked hopefully. "It's quite shallow here."

Logan scratched the back of his head for a moment. "You'll have to promise not to go deep," he finally agreed, thinking more about the water's depth rather than how cold it would be. After all, _he'd_ always waded along the shore of the lake as a child no matter what the season.

Both girls quickly whipped off their shoes and socks and Genevieve helped Monique roll up her jeans as she had her own.

Once ready, Monique looked at Logan. "Logan come too," she announced bossily, tugging at his hand. Quickly using his other hand to grab onto his wheel as she yanked, he went to say an instinctive 'no', but when he saw the look on both their faces he reconsidered and said thoughtfully, "I guess I could do that -as long as we go around there a little ways." The shallow edge of the lake at this point was covered with fine pebbles and shale and he felt reasonably sure his wheels would get a good purchase on it. "Hey," he called out to Genevieve, feeling uncharacteristically goofy, "if I get bogged down you'll hafta pull me out."

The child looked back to him. His wheels were already covered by an inch of water.

She smiled a sudden smile that was full of mischief and discernment well beyond her years. "Not me – I'll get Max to do it." Her smile widened when she saw by his discomfited expression how quickly he'd taken the bait.

"Maybe I should tell her to throw you in the deepest part," he retorted with a glint in his eyes as soon as he realised by her blatant look of glee that he'd been had.

She laughed out loud at that, then quickly grabbed at Monique as her sister nearly overbalanced on one of the rocks she'd decided to stand on.

Logan cautiously made his way over to them. The water was lapping at the girls' ankles by now but Monique still showed an inclination to go deeper.

Logan looked about and found a nice flat stone close by. Pushing up his sleeve, he fished it out and said to Monique as a diversionary tactic, "Hey, how far d'you think you can throw this?"

Monique took the pebble with a serious face, and frowned in great concentration as she swung her arm as wide as she could.

"Great," Logan encouraged her, after he and Genevieve had both righted themselves after ducking as the rock whizzed over their heads. "We just need t'work on your aim a little."

Before long, they were all having pebble-throwing competitions, ignoring their increasingly wet jeans as the girls splashed and scrambled to find the next rock.

Logan had had to wheel out a little further than he'd anticipated a few times to get Monique. He now glanced down wryly at his wet shoes, idly wondering if his socks were soggy as well and thankful he couldn't feel it if they were.

Gradually relaxing as he realised Monique was actually a little nervous of going too deep, he was content to sit back a bit and watch the girls play. Genevieve's fair head was bent over that of her sister's slightly darker one as they examined some sort of dead, water bug that Monique had found. With great excitement she'd held it up in her hand crying out, "Genewieve. Look! A scwanimal!"

It was hard to believe, as he watched the two girls playing with such innocence and careless joy, that they had been through such a difficult time only a few days ago.

Monique suddenly looked up at that moment, and he saw the child's eyes searching frantically for the merest instance, until they lighted on him, and instead of rising panic a huge smile lit up her face.

_If it hadn't been for Max..._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"I've only been here once," Max, with one of their suitcases in hand, told Sharon Hackett as they walked in the front door, "but as I recall, everything you'll need is pretty well here."

"You and Logan come here?" Sharon asked conversationally as she held the door open for her husband as he struggled in with the other two heavy suitcases.

"No...yes," Max replied a little awkwardly. "It was just an overnight stay," she added quickly. Then seeing Sharon's mildly enquiring look she realized what _that_ sounded like and she hastened to explain abruptly, "Not with Logan...with another friend." _Damn, that doesn't sound much better, _she thought as she closed the door Brad had left open when he'd gone out again.

The girls' mom didn't seem to notice anything strange in Max's manner as she wandered around the cabin checking the kitchen facilities and then onto the bedrooms to work out where they'd all sleep.

"This is great. You're right – everything seems to be here," Sharon marvelled to her as she came back out to the living room.

"Cool," Max replied cautiously, wondering if that would provoke another question, but Sharon just smiled widely at her and suggested they make coffee.

"That reminds me, Logan had a box of food an' stuff for you guys. He wasn't too sure what would be up here. I'll go get it."

Max glanced around as she got outside. She could see Logan and the girls down by the lake and Brad Hackett at his car, his light brown head under the hood.

He looked up when he heard Max approach. "I like tinkering," he grinned contentedly when he saw her enquiring look. "I like to know how things work."

_**I'd** sure like to know how things work_,_ too_, Max thought uneasily as she glanced towards Logan and the girls again, before heading back inside with the large box that Logan had asked Bling to put in the car._ Well, no one could accuse Logan of being ungenerous_, she thought warmly as she put it down on the kitchen table.

Sometime later, coffee having been consumed and the box unpacked, Sharon stood up and remarked that she'd better get their clothes organized.

"You want me to take one of those?" Max asked, indicating the two suitcases Brad had left near the door before he'd gone out again.

"They're heavy," was the protest.

"Thanks for the heads-up," grinned Max as she effortlessly picked up the closest one. "Which way?"

Sharon showed her through to the main bedroom, where Max dumped the suitcase on an antique double bed covered with an elaborate, but well-used, patchwork quilt.

Max looked about her with a vague restlessness. Something seemed to be tugging at her, deep down inside. Feeling almost irresistibly drawn, she covered the distance to the room's only window and looked out.

Three figures were slowly making their way towards the cabin from the lake. Max could clearly see Monique on Logan's knee and Genevieve walking along beside them, two pairs of shoes in her hand.

A figure came and stood beside Max and together they silently watched and waited.

"I don't know how you do it," Max murmured at last.

Sharon Hackett smiled a little, her eyes intent on the scene before her.

"I mean, after all that happened. I'm amazed you can bear to let them outta your sight," wondered Max, perhaps not entirely objectively.

"When we first had them back, I felt like that," Sharon admitted quietly, her green eyes blurred by hazy recollections of things too painful to remember.

"What changed?" Max asked softly, but there was a subtle edge to her tone that suggested it was no idle question.

"I guess I don't choose to let fear rule my life," Sharon told her with quiet determination, meeting the intense stare of those rich, dark eyes.

A flicker of perception flared briefly in Max's eyes, but still very real to her was the self-doubt that had attacked her as she'd struggled to save the child. _What if..._Her world seemed to be full of way too many '_what ifs_.'

Sharon pushed a stray strand of short dark hair back from her face and looked at Max. Her green eyes gently probed the younger girl's, and for a moment a look of mutual understanding passed between them. "This is just my theory," she told Max with a tight self-conscious grin, but her tone was thoughtful and her words held a sincerity that betokened experience, "but I think a healthy, unselfish love is one that...somehow lets go rather than holds on. Course, it isn't always easy..."

A pregnant silence followed her words as both women gazed out the window, each lost deep in their own myriad of thoughts and fears and endless 'what ifs'.

Genevieve, meanwhile, had put the shoes down and was attempting to climb a tree whose branches hung invitingly close to the ground. Max could see Logan point out with an outstretched hand the next likely branch for her to use; all the while Monique was tugging at his jacket trying to gain his attention. Finally, as if satisfied that Genevieve was momentarily safe, he put his head down to hear what it was Monique was trying to whisper in his ear.

Max's mind drifted for the moment. For the first time in days she felt calm...peaceful.

"And I've learned it's better not to look when they climb trees," Sharon's amused voice broke in on her thoughts, "which, understandably, Logan obviously hasn't."

Genevieve was now climbing higher and higher, and Logan was caught trying to watch Monique, who'd climbed down from his knee, and call out advice to Genevieve at the same time.

Max couldn't help smiling widely at seeing the usually super-cool, 'save the world' Logan so out of his depth.

"I'd better go lend him a hand," she told Sharon with a grin.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey."

Logan, with Monique once more on his knee, had seen her approach and now looked up at her with a serious expression.

"Max to the rescue...again," he remarked wryly.

Max looked at him, for the moment a little unsure of her reception, but when he then smiled widely at her and said, "You wanna take this wriggling worm off me," she answered his smile with one of her own that flashed even, white teeth.

"You don't wanna keep it and use it as bait?" Max suggested as she picked Monique up then turned her upside down and let her hang from her ankles.

"Uh uh. Not juicy enough."

"What's bait?" Monique asked, giggling a little from her upside down position.

"It's what you use ta catch fish," Genevieve called from the bough she was on. "Out the way – I'm gonna jump!"

"Don't you think you're a bit high for that?" Logan suggested diplomatically.

"You mean to tell me you never jumped outta that tree from there?" Max murmured with eyebrows raised as she swung Monique upright in her arms again.

"I seem to recall _falling_ outta that tree from about there," Logan told her, wincing a little as Genevieve landed in a tumbled heap at the bottom of the tree.

"Cooool! This place is the best, Logan!" she called to him.

"You do anything exciting like break an arm or anything?" Max asked Logan with amusement.

"Nothing so romantic," Logan admitted. "I'd only climbed up there because I'd been goaded by Bennett or someone, and I was going real well - 'til I happened t'look down," he added with a quick, humorous grimace at the memory.

"Uh oh," commented Max sympathetically, walking by Logan's side as they headed back. "What then?"

"I froze," Logan admitted in a matter-of-fact tone, briefly biting down on his bottom lip as he thought back. "And my dad - I can still see him - was _sooo furious_. I think I actually made him yell at me," he remembered pensively.

Genevieve looked a little puzzled. "Why didn't he see you were scared and just go up an' help you?"

"Let's just say that wasn't my dad's way of doing things," he told her lightly.

"He would have been a hit as a drill sergeant at you-know-where," Max told him sardonically.

"Anyway, we've got a surprise for you girls up at the car," Logan said, swiftly changing the subject. Max looked at him closely. This was news to her.

"Goody, goody, goody," Monique chanted, having understood that part of the conversation.

Max was secretly pleased to see that Brad had gone back inside by the time they'd returned to the cabin, as this would probably be their last few moments with the girls.

Logan headed straight to his car and put down the tailgate. The others waited while he pulled onto his lap a very large, bulky, rectangular- shaped item covered in brown paper.

"This is for you, Monique," he told the child, who'd been looking at the package with large, hopeful eyes.

Monique scrambled down from Max's arms with alacrity, only to stand a little uncertainly in front of Logan.

"Go on," he encouraged her.

Needing no further encouragement, she ripped at the paper, while Logan whispered something into Genevieve's ear.

Once Monique saw the wheels, her small body was almost shaking with excitement. "A carriage for my baby," she finally managed to splutter.

"And here's your baby," Genevieve added, placing her doll in her hands.

"You found my baby!"

"Well, Matt Sung found your baby, actually," Logan explained fairly.

Max grinned widely as she watched Monique – uncannily, she felt for a brief moment that she'd had a glimpse into what Christmas giving was all about. _Nice_, she thought as her eyes hovered on Monique. To her surprise, she looked across at Logan and found his amused eyes trained not on Monique, but on herself.

By this time, the child's eyes had opened impossibly wide. "Here, let me help you set your carriage up," she told her, helping her take it off Logan's knee.

"It's got a hood and wheels and blankets and pillow and everything," Monique told Max breathlessly as she ever so carefully laid her baby inside and tucked it in. "I take my baby for a walk?"

"In a minute," Logan told her. "First Genevieve hasta get her present."

Logan put a hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box prettily wrapped in pale pink with a dark burgundy ribbon.

"I know it's not a carriage..." he began, but one look at her face as she opened it up was enough to tell him he needn't have bothered to apologise.

"Logan, Max...it's soo beautiful," Genevieve whispered, lifting the gold charm bracelet off its burgundy velvet backing. "I've never, ever, ever, had anything like this before!"

Logan's grin broadened at her obvious delight. "Well, you deserved a reward for being so brave," he told her seriously.

"Wow, this thing must be serious if he's giving you gold bracelets," Max teased Genevieve, making the child blush bright red. _"I_ don't have one of those," she added irrepressibly with a sideways glance at Logan.

"Well, I don't give 'em out to just anyone," he protested mildly, but before he had a chance to say more, to his surprise, Genevieve threw her arms around his neck. She clung to him tightly for a moment, then, even to her own surprise, proceeded to sob her heart out on his shoulder.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, Eyes Only's really just a big softy," Max murmured as the car wound its way back down the mountain.

Logan looked a little uncomfortable at her comment.

"I think that was really nice what you did back there," she added with quiet sincerity.

Logan looked across at her. The warmth in her words seemed to make her brown eyes somehow almost seem to glow.

Goodbyes had been said and thankyous had been received with embarrassment but given with heartfelt sincerity.

"_Well, don't thank me too much yet...you still haven't got to Canada," Logan smiled from the car. "I'm hoping you'll like Fredericton. I've heard it's a great place to bring up kids – two universities, a community college, good schools..."_

"_Logan, I'm sure the girls will be really happy there," Sharon had said at once._

"_And Genevieve," he added softly, "If anyone kicks you at school just give me a call and I'll get Max to pay them a visit," he told her conspiratorially. _

_The child smiled a little sadly, and they drove off leaving Genevieve, her eyes red-rimmed in a pale face, and Monique waving madly to them until the Aztek had turned the corner and was out of sight. _

"Still, said Max, returning to her previous comment, "the presents were a nice touch."

"Actually, I was just trying to deter Monique from a life of crime," Logan excused himself. "This way she won't feel compelled to steal wheelchairs whenever she needs a carriage for her doll."

"That's a good thing," agreed Max. "Wheelchair users everywhere will be sleeping that little bit easier thanks to you," she told him flippantly.

Logan gave her a sidelong glance at that comment which she met with an innocent grin.

"You know, there's one thing we never sorted out through all a this." Max paused expectantly, but when Logan didn't reply she said with a touch of exasperation, "_The money! _We never did find out what happened to the four million."

Logan merely raised one disinterested eyebrow.

"Aren't you even the least bit curious as to what happened to it?" she asked him with a hint of incredulity.

"Nope."

"You're kidding...right?"

"It's blood money, Max."

"Yeah, but don't you wonder...?"

"Not in the least," Logan cut her off bluntly.

They were nearly out of the mountains by now, and his phone suddenly started ringing.

"Hey, Logan. It's me, Charlie," the disembodied voice informed them brightly.

"Charlie. You back in Seattle?" Logan asked a little reluctantly.

"Yep. I said good bye to Emma yesterday."

"Great," Logan told her somewhat inappropriately with false enthusiasm. He was very aware of Max sitting in the passenger seat beside him and listening to every word.

"So, Logan. About your promise..." Charlie sounded very determined.

"Right...my promise. Um...I'm in the car right now. How about I call you tonight and we'll organise a time."

"Sure," the voice replied, then added a little warningly, "I am holding you to this," and was gone.

"Yep, just a big softy," Max reiterated dryly, but when Logan looked across at her, she met his gaze blandly.

Max couldn't help but think of Sharon Hackett's words as the car cruised steadily onwards towards the mess that was Seattle, and then her thoughts went to Charlie, waiting in her apartment with her sketchpad and pencil... and maybe candles...and wine...

_So, Sharon says you gotta be brave enough to let go..._

Max thought carefully.

"So, when are ya thinking of seeing Charlie?" she asked Logan, awaiting his answer with a bright, but very determined air.

She'd come to her decision – _Lettin' go maybe al' good some of the time...but I don't plan on bein' a dope. _

Max's full lips curled a little as she stole a glance at the familiar, intense, scruffy profile, noting that his green eyes behind the small, steel-framed glasses were now looking distinctly wary.

_No Max, sometimes a girl's just gotta protect her investment._

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The huge explosion rose high into the air like a mushroom cloud.

The owner of Old Seattle shook his head despondently. At least while the town had remained intact, there'd always been the hope that someday the horse drawn coaches would once again carry tourists around the town's dusty, and badly rutted, main street.

The dream was gone now. Local authorities had decreed that the mine was too dangerous in its present state. The explosion that had been necessary to seal the now dangerous mine had showered debris onto the nearby buildings as well.

Only a few, solitary bats remained in the pitch-dark tunnels now – their one tiny entrance unseen by those sent to make sure the mine remained impenetrable.

They hung peacefully upside down in their cavern, contented and secure as they lived alone in their stygian darkness and seclusion – the silent, unknowing guardians of an innocuous plain, canvas bag that now lay buried beneath the rocks and dirt and beams somewhere beneath them.

THE END

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Well, finished at last! Thankyou all so much for following this story. I hope you had as much fun reading this as I have had in writing it.

I've really appreciated all the positive reviews you've given me throughout, and I'd like to especially thank my 'regulars' who have been such an encouragement to me by reviewing each chapter. Your words have been a great inspiration!

Thanks so much to Kyre who willingly came to the rescue and betaed several chapters for me when Alaidh was unavailable!

Finally – huge, huge, huge thanks to Alaidh, who has put so much work into this story not just grammatically but also in checking matters of canon and has never complained once about the length of my chapters! THANKYOU!


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